


Stay

by Ryxl



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 30 years of UST gets resolved, Angst to Fluff, Gabe fussing over Jack, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Jack Has Issues, M/M, Recovery, Romantic Fluff, Second Chances, Sexual Content, Strawberries, correcting misunderstandings, infodumps at the end, jokingly sincere marriage threats, maladaptive coping mechanism, past trauma, showing affection with food, two old men in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 11:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryxl/pseuds/Ryxl
Summary: Jack's been walling things away since he was a child, turning himself off so he didn't fall apart, and Gabriel's been dragging Jack back out of himself since he was 18. As commanders of Overwatch and Blackwatch, they were so close - both physically and emotionally - that it was hard to believe they weren't an actual couple. But when the Swiss HQ exploded, Jack lost everything that made life worth living. Or at least, he thought he had...(Fic clocks in at about 25k words with another 20k in infodumps posted at the end because these two have a loooot of history that didn't make it into the story. The Jack in 'From Queensbury, With Love' is an AU of this Jack where he met and platonically married a pregnant Ana to help raise her baby instead of going into the military at 18.)





	1. Prologue: Living Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Story starts about a week after the Swiss HQ exploded. I know Jack isn't very forthcoming in the first few chapters, so even though chapters 9 and 10 are infodumps, if something doesn't make sense PLEASE don't be afraid to ask for clarification. I am prepared to tweak chapters if they need it.

He woke up and wished he hadn't. Everything hurt to greater or lesser degrees, inside and out. His mouth tasted like something had vomited inside it and then died. The only blessing was it kept him from thinking.

From _remembering_.

He was dead, as far as he was concerned, despite his body stubbornly clinging to life. He was dead, he had nothing left to live for, and he was only killing time until time killed him.

The glass bottles - some whole, some broken - mocked him. _Jack Daniels_. Irritably, he kicked one as he hauled himself to his feet, aching and rank, and stumbled out of the half-ruined, abandoned building that had sheltered him for the last...days. He wasn't sure. His stomach was a gnawing void, his eyes felt like they were bleeding as daylight stabbed them. His knuckles were bloody, or at least covered in half-healed scabs and dried blood. He needed a hot meal, a hot shower, and clean clothes. Not that he was going to get them.

No one paid him any heed as he stumbled out, practically invisible between his stained, disheveled clothes and the stench of sweat and urine mingled with vomit. Absently, he scratched at his scalp and the stubble on his face. Thinking about the past was out of the question, but he did need to think about the future, and to do that, he needed food.

A cafe with outdoor seating. A couple left, their meal partially uneaten. He sat down and shoved the remnants into his mouth, barely stopping to chew before swallowing, downing the rest of whatever they'd had to drink. Another diner looked at him, disgusted, and stood to go inside. He was at that table within seconds, bolting what he could and chugging the beverage before grabbing the nearly-untouched other half of the diner's sandwich and scurrying away. A shout just after he turned the corner told him he'd judged the time correctly.

He walked through the streets, contemplating his options like a child peering carefully between its fingers. There had been attackers; that meant someone doing the attacking, which meant he had a target. He had a _mission_ , and that meant he needed gear. He needed weapons, he needed armor, he needed resources.

It's not theft if you take what's yours, right?

He swallowed the last bite of his stolen sandwich and began walking towards a smaller Overwatch facility near the edge of the city.

 

* * *

 

Talon soldiers swarmed out of the dropship. He watched them from his rooftop perch, tracking them with his visor, feeling the hum of the pulse rifle faintly through his gloves. It would do no good to shoot them now. Well, that wasn't exactly true. It would do _some_ good, but not nearly as much as picking them off as they came back would. Or...

He held his breath as the masked figure in black leather stepped out of the ship. This could only be their leader. Reaper, they called him. Not that it mattered. Killing him would hamstring Talon. He readied the pulse rifle, sighting through the visor.

Then Reaper started barking orders.

The mask muffled things, of course. But he knew that timbre, knew that cadence, knew that voice better than he knew his own and one of the walls in his heart cracked.

He lowered the pulse rifle, curled up against the chimney, and wept as a single ray of light penetrated the bleak landscape his life had become. A faint light, a wan flickering hope, the barest thread for him to cling to but he did because this - this was a breath of fresh air as he lay crushed and suffocating. Moisture on the underside of a rock as he slowly died of thirst.

Reyes was alive.


	2. Unexpected aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of a Talon mission gone wrong, he finds someone who needs help. 
> 
> Neither of them were expecting to meet like that.

The explosion had knocked half the building down. He could hear screams, coughing, pleas for help and the frantic shouts of Talon agents trying to organize a retreat. He picked them off as they ran for the dropship: one, two, six, ten. Three of them made it. He considered firing at the ship, but at this distance it would be a waste of charge and he knew it.

He shouldered his rifle and made his way downhill, towards the now-ruined building. His visor told him there were several survivors; if they were “his” people, they’d need help. If they weren’t…well…

It wouldn’t be the first blood on his hands.

He’d just dispatched the first Talon agent (legs crushed by debris; he tried to plead for his life but had no information to trade and got a clean death instead) when his visor picked up an emergency beacon. An _Overwatch_ beacon. The sort of beacon an agent was given as a last resort, when they’re too badly wounded to move or are afraid they won’t be able to stay conscious. It was coming from close to the center of the blast; whoever it was had been barricaded in a sort of cave made by the collapse of the ceiling, a triangular space fairly stable but nearly impossible to get to because of the debris.

It took him twenty very long minutes to batter his way in from around the side, enlarging the too-small hole left by hauling chunks of concrete off the pile.

The figure that sprawled, bleeding and barely breathing, against the wall wore a distinctive white mask. He knew that mask, had heard the growling voice that had come from behind it. Talon’s mass-murderer, Reaper. An enemy.

But once, he had been a friend.

Sighing, he set down his pack and set up the biotic field generator. That wouldn’t be enough to heal anything before Reaper bled out, but with some first aid, he’d make it. A combat knife helped get to the worst wounds, cutting away pieces of armor that couldn’t be removed by hand. His were bare because gloves were shit at fine dexterity, and blood slicked his fingers. He’d just finished a makeshift tourniquet around the left leg when Reaper stirred.

“What…”

“Shut up, Reyes, you’re bleeding.” He nudged the generator a bit closer.

Reyes laughed weakly, wetly, blood splattering the inside of the mask, dripping through the holes. “Jack Morrison,” he breathed, derision dripping from every syllable. “Always the Boy Scout, helping those in need, hmm?”

He focused on pressing a makeshift bandage to a wound on Reaper’s chest, glad the visor hid his expression.

“Do you think that I’ll be touched by your display of altruism, and leave my wicked ways behind me?” Reyes mocked.

“That’s not why I’m here,” he said evenly.

“Then why _are_ you here? Still a bleeding-heart after all this time?” One gauntleted hand rose slowly, a claw-tip finger hooking the chain around his neck, pulling out the dog tags he wore under his jacket. “You’re clinging to a past that doesn’t exist.” The fingers tightened around the tags as if to yank the chain and break it.

“Please don’t.” The words were calm, dignified, quiet.

The fingers relaxed; the tags dropped to his chest. He ignored them, focusing on holding pressure to the wound until it closed itself.

“How many times will you come running if I set that beacon off again?” Reyes asked, mocking him.

“As many as it takes.”

There; the wound was closed enough that the biotic field could heal it. He picked up the generator and sat it on Reaper’s lap before gathering the rest of his things and pulling his gloves back on.

“Just going to leave me here?” Reyes accused.

“You’ll heal,” he answered, syncing the beacon to his visor.

There. Now he’d be able to find Reyes wherever he was, if the beacon went off again. He stood to leave.

“Jack.”

He paused.

“That’s it, you’re just going to leave? No speeches, no snide remarks? Not going to try to convince me to come back?”

“No point in saying anything if you don’t want to hear it.”

“What if…” A pause. Ghosts of _What if I need you?_ echoed in the small space. “What if this happens again?”

“Then I’ll come back,” he said softly.

The dog tags chimed gently as he walked out, feeling Reaper’s gaze bore into his back from behind the mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Jack were thinking clearly, it might occur to him to wonder why Talon's mass-murderer had an Overwatch beacon on him, and who he might have been expecting to answer it.


	3. Make it better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence.
> 
> Three times is enemy action.

The abandoned farmhouse made a remarkably good base. There was a town nearby where he could trade, and a Talon base not too much further where he could raid and steal communications equipment. Intercepting Talon movements was a priority, of course, but the real goal was keeping track of Reaper's movements. Especially after he’d answered the beacon a second time and kept Reyes from dying again.

Sometimes, as he lay awake listening to the sounds of the night, he thought about carrying a wounded Reaper off into the woods, to an isolated campsite, and... The thought ended abruptly there, because he couldn't bear to think about anything that might rip the bandages off the wounds in his mind. He'd bleed to death.

The other reason the farmhouse was a good base was there was so much mindless work that could be done to quiet the thoughts that ran in little circles, trapped between walls in his mind like a mouse under a glass bowl, frantically going nowhere.

He _hated_ having nothing to do.

He was sweeping the upstairs when an alert pulsed on his wrist - Reaper on the move. Broom abandoned, he clattered down the wooden stairs while scrolling through the information on his wrist-mounted device. Reaper was coming to the base near him? _Why?_ A sigh; he supposed he would never find out why, unless Reaper went out on some kind of mission. Still, he watched through his visor as the sleek little ship streaked overhead, longing for something he couldn't let himself name.

The chatter his stolen device fed him once Reaper had arrived was...alarming. Talon had spotted him in the area. The order to search wouldn't be far behind. He gathered his things, or as much of what was useful as he could carry, and loaded it on the stolen speeder in the barn before riding it down a game trail and up into the hills. There was a cave he’d found that would make a decent enough spot to lay low and still keep him in range to keep tabs on Talon's movements.

He'd gotten as settled as one could get in a cave when the beacon went off.

Visor. Rifle. First-aid kit. Bitotic field emitter. Then he was on the speeder, coasting almost recklessly down the game trail towards Reyes's location.

The beacon was coming from the direction of his abandoned base, which was alarming for two reasons. First, Talon would know that _someone_ had been there, and Reyes would likely guess that it was him. And second, there was no fighting going on. How had Reyes managed to injure himself so badly on an abandoned farm? He stopped just short of the edge of the woods and scanned the area with his visor. Only one life source, in the barn.

Only one? He hadn't brought any men with him?

Silently, he skirted the barn and got close enough to scan the house. No one.

Reaper had come alone.

His heart beat painfully, breath almost choking him. Why- no, don't think. Don't tug those bandages, leave the wound tightly-wrapped. Stability restored, he left the speeder just out of sight of the barn door and hefted the pulse rifle. Just in case. He slipped around the edge of the door and rolled smoothly to put his back to the other side, spending a minimal amount of time silhouetted against the light. The interior of the barn wasn't as dark as it could have been, between the numerous cracks between the boards that made up the walls and the fact that the door had been left wide open. Now, what had Reyes gotten himself into?

It took him a minute to find what he was looking for. He hadn't done much with the barn, so he had no earthly clue _how_ it had happened, but Reyes had managed - somehow - to harpoon himself to the wall just under the hay loft with a pitchfork.

He was in action almost before he'd consciously registered the situation, rifle abandoned to scramble for a coil of rope hanging on the wall, swarm up the ladder to the hay loft and tie one end around a beam and the other around himself. Memories of repelling, blissfully free of context, bubbled up as he backed to the edge, keeping the rope taut. Down, slowly, walking down and over until he could inch within reach of Reyes - of _Reaper_ , because he couldn't let himself forget that the man behind the mask was an enemy who might choose to take the opportunity to eliminate him. Cut off the nose to spite the face.

(He would _not_ think about frogs and scorpions and fables about true nature, he _wouldn't_.)

Reaper was breathing, but not easily. Fuck. It didn't _sound_ like a lung wound, but he still had a pitchfork through him. A pitchfork that was firmly wedged into the wood. How was he going to get it out without dropping Reyes? _Could_ he get it out of the wood without removing it from Reyes's body? He inched closer and tested the handle. Rot and rust; he'd be able to get the handle out easily, and that would let him get better angles on the head.

"Don't move," he growled to the masked figure, which stirred.

"I'm _trying_ ," Reyes growled back, and that's when he noticed that those taloned gauntlets were dug into the wood, helping hold him up.

He put one foot on the head of the pitchfork to hold it still and wrapped the hand not holding the rope around the handle. One wrench, and it came free. He tossed it away. Awkwardly, he untied the rope from around himself and looped it around Reyes's chest and arms before tying it off.

"Kinky," came the mutter from behind the mask.

He ignored it and edged further down the wall, straddling Reyes, until the handle of the pitchfork was just above his shoulder. A sharp tug freed it from the wood, and Reyes's scream nearly broke what was left of his heart. Reyes slumped forward and he wrapped his free arm around that bleeding torso. Slow step by slow step they inched down the wall until he could shake the rope off his other arm and lay Reyes gently on the floor. The emitter got turned on and set on Reyes's abdomen. He reached for Reyes's armor, combat knife ready to carefully split it so he could get at the wounds before pulling out the filthy, rusty metal.

"Don't," Reyes growled.

"Don't clean the wounds?" he asked neutrally.

"I pity any germs that enter my body."

"Fine." He put the knife back. "I'm pulling it out now."

One hand on Reyes's shoulder, he grabbed the head of the pitchfork and yanked it out. The scream tore at the wrappings in his mind, making him want to tightly embrace the body of the man who used to be his friend. He threw the thing over by its other half, trying not to look at the bloody tines or hear Reyes gasping. The wounds were thankfully narrow enough that they would close fast. On the one hand, that meant he didn't need to put pressure on them. On the other hand, it meant he should get out of here because he was sure Reyes wouldn't tolerate him for much longer. He sat back on his heels, preparing to stand up.

"Wait."

He hesitated.

"Aren't you going to kiss it and make it better?" Reyes taunted.

It may have been only mocking, but with how badly he was bleeding in his mind, he couldn't bring himself to ignore it. Wordlessly, he undid the clasps holding the visor to his face and took it off. Not looking at the mask he knew Reyes could see perfectly well through, he bent down and pressed his lips to each of the punctures before putting the visor back on.

Reyes was silent as he walked to the door of the barn, retrieved his rifle, and left.

He'd made it almost all the way back to the cave by the time he heard Reaper snarl to his minions that Soldier 76 had absolutely been using the farmhouse as a base, but he was long gone and there was no point in looking for him. He walked the speeder into the cave, removed his visor, curled up on his bedroll, and cried that this was all he had left of Reyes: a handful of moments, preventing Reyes from bleeding out physically while he attempted to keep himself from bleeding out emotionally. He didn't know why Reyes had called off the search. A gesture of gratitude for having saved his life? Mercy given to an enemy? False hope?

 _All hope abandon, ye who enter here_.

It didn't matter. Everything else had gone up in flames, come down in ash. If he met his end by Reaper's shotgun because he'd answered that beacon and patched Reyes up one last time, then at least he would have died doing something he didn't regret. There were worse ways to die.

Two faces hovered just out of memory; resolutely, he wound the bandages tighter around them. If he joined them, so be it. But he'd failed at everything else, and he'd give everything he was to prevent Reyes from joining them again.


	4. Siberian rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all over for Reaper and Soldier 76. 
> 
> But for Jack and Gabriel, it's a chance to start again.

He couldn’t say how many times he’d come to Reyes’s rescue over the past several months. They all blended together, despite the different scenarios. The mocking. The taloned gauntlet wrapped around his dog tags, threatening to yank them off but releasing them at his request. The silence as he walked away after not rising to the bait when Reyes mocked him. But this time…

Reyes had gotten himself into a doozy this time. The dropship had been clipped on takeoff, and he thought it had gotten cleanly away until the beacon went off some 50 miles deep into the Siberian tundra. Instead of just rushing out, he ransacked a small outpost first. If history had taught him anything, it was never to underestimate Russian winters. When he followed the beacon’s signal, it was on a snowspeeder with two sets of thermal outerwear, a tent, rations, an entire first aid kit (including some things that weren’t standard first aid supplies), and a signal amplifier.

The crash was easy to find, black smoke billowing against the snow. Reyes was even _easier_ to find, sitting several meters away as if waiting for him.

He hadn’t put on the outerwear, afraid Reyes wouldn’t recognize him, but it didn’t matter. Reyes was delirious at best. He bound the other man up and put him on the back of the speeder, covered with one thermal coat and protected from the wind as best he could manage. Then he bundled himself up in thermal outerwear, sighing as the cold ceased to touch him, and sped off.

He didn’t want Talon to find him if they came looking.

The speeder was down to a quarter charge before he stopped. It hadn’t been fully charged to begin with, but with what he’d used getting out to the crash, he knew he wasn’t going to make it back to civilization – even if civilization would have welcomed them. So he went deeper into the bleak landscape, stopping in the middle of a snow-covered field. The tent was the first order of business – shelter from the wind and cold. It expanded into a bright orange dome tall enough to stand in and big enough for six men, with insulated sides and a double-insulated bottom. He carried Reyes inside and laid him down before going back for his supplies.

Somewhere along the way, Reyes had passed out. He stripped the gloves and face mesh off and unrolled the emergency sled – a sort of sleeping bag on a reinforced bottom that laced up and could be dragged by a healthy comrade – and started stripping Reyes. His flesh was worryingly chilled, but he didn’t know how much of that was something his altered physiology could tolerate. He bundled Reyes into the other set of outerwear anyway, insulated pants and thick boots and hooded jacket, gloves to protect vulnerable extremities and the hat with detachable mesh to blunt the bite of the wind without making it _too_ difficult to see or breathe. He left the mesh off for the moment. Once Reyes was protected, he laid him on the open sled and closed the flap. Then he shed his equally-incriminating gear, the jacket and visor, and shoved them in the empty tent case along with Reaper’s armor and the pulse rifle.

Time to set the beacon.

He was halfway out of the tent when Reyes said, “Jack.”

When he looked back, Reyes was watching him with unfocused eyes.

“Stay.”

“I’ll be right back,” he assured Reyes.

The signal amplifier looked like a big, orange baton. He affixed his beacon to the top, activated it, and then jammed the bottom into the frozen ground. The amplifier meant it would reach the Overwatch satellites easily; he just hoped someone was listening.

Reyes was watching as he came back in, sitting up with a heartbreakingly lost and vulnerable expression on his face. He was putting that down to hypothermia. He sat down beside the sled, mildly alarmed when Reyes leaned over onto him, but he wrapped his arms gently around the other man and just held him. Neither of them said anything.

When he heard the sound of a ship approaching, he stuck the fingers of his right hand into the left sleeve of his jacket and pulled out the sedative injector he’d stashed there. Reyes stiffened as it was applied, then went limp. He laid Reyes down again in the sled and tightened the crisscrossing laces all the way up, leaving only his face exposed. Then he fastened the facial mesh on both of their hats and went out to greet the ship.

Red cross on the side. Good sign. Ziegler hopped out almost before the pilot touched down, wings flared and staff at the ready. Even better sign. He plucked the beacon off the amplifier and pulled the mesh off his face.

“Commander! You’re alive!” Her joy faded into confusion. “You don’t seem injured,” she said with a hint of disapproval for having used an emergency beacon without a life-threatening emergency.

“It’s not for me.” He walked into the tent and came back out with his pack over one shoulder and the sled sliding behind him. “It’s for him. Hypothermia. I didn’t see any injuries when I stripped him.”

Two medics jumped out of the back to load Reyes; he tossed his pack in and then collapsed the tent. He’d get the coordinates later, but if he never came back…well…maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

The flight back was silent, but Ziegler’s unspoken questions sung in the air between them.

 

* * *

 

He was dozing in the chair of the private hospital room when Reyes woke.

“Jack.”

“I’m here.”

“You stayed with me all this fucking time?” Reyes scowled, but exhaustion sapped the strength out of it.

“You know the answer to that,” he said quietly, moving his chair over to sit next to the bed.

“Do they know…?”

 _Do they know I’m Reaper_.

He shook his head. “No one knows, for either of us.”

Reyes sighed and looked away. After a moment, he turned back and reached for the chain, tugging the dog tags out like he always did. This time, however, he didn’t wrap his fingers around them. “I just want to look,” he murmured.

He held still as Reyes nudged the top tag out of the way and read his own name on the bottom one.

“Even though I said no?”

He tucked the tags back under his shirt. “It didn’t change anything. Not for me.”

Reyes looked away for a long minute, staring at the wall. “Jack,” he said, not turning to look at him, “I lied. The answer was _yes._ ”

Reyes was braced for his reaction, clearly afraid of what he might do or say. He took Reyes’s hand gently in his and squeezed reassuringly.

Reyes squeezed back.


	5. Coming back from the brink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's amazing how much things can change in 48 hours.

The door opened; he started awake and tensed as a nurse walked in carrying a tray.

“What’s that?” he asked, just shy of a demand.

“Breakfast,” she answered.

He stood, stretched, and crossed the small room to examine the contents of the tray. Bland, mushy, bleh.

Unacceptable.

“No, it’s not,” he said, taking it from her. “Not for him. Where’s your kitchen? I’ll make it myself.”

“I can’t allow-”

Impatiently, he cut her off. “I’ll clear it with Dr. Ziegler, but _I’m_ preparing his food. Now. _Where is your kitchen?”_

 

* * *

 

It was relaxing, working with his hands. The familiar scents and textures, the muscle memory linked with sensory memory. Eggs and ham, potatoes and bacon. And, of course, biscuits. He ate two fresh out of the oven, without jam or even butter. They were perfect, and a tiny crumb of peace lodged in his heart as he chased them down with cold milk. Split two, spread them with butter and let it melt. Split two more, butter and strawberry jam. Those never made it to a plate.

With a _proper_ breakfast on the tray, coffee and juice in covered containers, he went back to Reyes’s room.

Reyes was awake and sitting up, although from the lack of worried expression he guessed he hadn’t been awake long.

“Made you breakfast,” he said shortly, suddenly uncertain that this was a welcome thing for him to have done and feeling very self-conscious as he put the tray on a wheeled table and pushed it closer.

“I didn’t know the hospital kitchen was stocked with Bisquick,” Reyes said casually.

He froze. Reyes froze, looking at him, lips forming a teasing smile but eyes begging him silently to laugh.

Bisquick. Their old pattern. He felt something in him stretch, trying to respond to that teasing smile, like a rusted mechanism struggling to move again. He didn’t quite smile, but his lips twitched.

“If you’d rather have the plain oatmeal I can call the nurse back…”

“Nonono I take it back.”

Reyes reached for the table and he pushed it within reach before sitting down again. He watched Reyes eat, packing the food away like he’d been on cold rations for the last month and occasionally shooting him worried looks.

“You _did_ eat, right?” Reyes asked warily.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Good.”

Once Reyes was done eating, he pushed the table out of the way and moved his chair back to beside the bed.

“Jack…”

“Hm?”

Reyes took his hand gently. “I know I’ve got no room to speak, but are you okay?”

How do you describe the sensation like your world is falling apart and taking you with it, and only by ignoring the things you care about can you hold yourself together? He shuddered briefly, remembering root beer floats and the warm, solid comfort of Reyes’s shoulder, but he was wrapped too tightly to even let himself yearn for that.

“I’m tired,” he sighed. “I’ll…go let Ziegler know you’re awake. Need the bathroom before I do?”

Reyes shook his head, looking like he wanted to say something but was chewing on the words instead.

“Okay. I’ll be back.”

He left the room.

 

* * *

 

"You have an apartment," he said as the taxi pulled up to the row of single-story townhouses. He wanted to be incredulous, but that was more energy than he had and he sighed instead. "Of course you do."

That was the extent of his commentary until they were inside. It looked, to be honest, like the kind of place you take someone to fuck. The couch was wide and covered in soft leather, and Reyes shoved him gently at it.

"Take a nap," he said firmly. "You look like you need to sleep for a week and I know for a fact there's nothing to eat here, so crash on my couch while I go grocery shopping."

He wanted to protest, the impulse grating inside him that he couldn't rest he had things to - but he wasn't a kid anymore. No one was depending on him.

_I'm your CO, Morrison, you're supposed to be able to lean on me. It's in my fucking job description._

But he didn't want to be a burden.

He looked at Reyes, intending to protest, and saw worry in the depths of those dark eyes. The words dried up in his throat and he nodded instead.

The couch was soft and cool. He laid his head on a throw pillow and closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

"Wake up," a voice ordered.

Adrenaline surged briefly, giving him the strength to open his eyes and sit up, but then it left him there with a head full of fog trying to remember where he was and why.

"Get in here," Reyes called in a tone that brooked no argument.

He followed Reyes's voice into the kitchen - pale and sterile - and found the man standing with his arms crossed in front of a round wooden table. He opened is mouth to ask a question, but Reyes nodded towards a chair.

"Sit."

He sat, and discovered that Reyes's body had been blocking a large, frosted mug filled with bubbly brown liquid and pale, creamy lumps.

"Drink that," Reyes said firmly.

A long-handled spoon and a bendy straw had been shoved into the mug, between scoops of ice cream. Slowly, he reached for the mug and pulled it closer. A root beer float. Reyes made him a root beer float. Reyes was worried about him. The straw trembled in his hand and he let go, uncertain that he'd be able to swallow even if he got any of it in his mouth.

Reyes sat beside him and slid his chair closer. The wrapping holding him tight was unraveling. He turned and pressed his face into Reyes's shoulder, felt muscles shift as Reyes wrapped an arm around him.

_You're supposed to be able to lean on me._

He trembled, tightness coming undone, mental bandages coming loose and spilling emotional guts all over the floor of Reyes's booty-call kitchen. It hurt, everything that had happened. The deaths. The destruction. Losing Reyes. It hurt, but Reyes was here, arms wrapped around him, and all he could do was draw in one shaky breath after another, letting them out in shuddering exhalations. Reyes was here. He could lean on Reyes.

Jack pressed his face into Gabriel's shirt, feeling all the things he hadn't let himself feel and trying not to cry. Eventually, he was empty. The black void inside him merged with the darkened kitchen and Jack gratefully ceased to exist.

 

* * *

 

He woke up in a darkened room, on a bed with dark sheets, under a velour blanket. Stretching his arms out only proved the bed was big enough for two people, and that he was in it alone. Then memory came back, and Jack frowned. He was in Gabriel's secret apartment, in Gabriel's bed? Jack sat up and examined the covers. There were two pillows, but the other one was still plumply smooth. Also, he was wearing nothing but briefs and Gabriel had left clothes for him on the chair by the bathroom door.

Well, he could take a hint.

One hot shower later, he emerged from the bedroom wearing a pair of broken-in jeans and one of Gabriel's t-shirts to see his host curled up on the couch in a pair of sweatpants, back to the room, hugging a throw pillow and breathing deeply.

He was sleeping on the couch. He'd _slept_ on the couch. He'd put Jack to bed in _his_ bed and then slept on the _couch_.

Jack's insides squirmed. To silence the whispers of guilt and longing, he went to the kitchen and investigated the groceries Gabriel had bought.

Eggs. Flour. Butter. Buttermilk. Bacon.

A moment of checking cabinets turned up mixing bowls and a skillet. Knife and wooden spoon and spatula in a drawer. Good enough. Jack went to work, cutting butter and mixing flour and milk, working by years of experience and texture rather than measuring. Juggling the timing of various things was second-nature, and when the oven timer went off on his biscuits, he had just finished the eggs and the coffee was done.

Gabriel shuffled in and poured himself a mug of coffee, eyes scrunched shut against the light. Jack split and buttered a pair of biscuits, adding them to his plate and setting it on the table before addressing his own breakfast. Gabriel shuffled over to the table and sat. When Jack went to prepare a cup of coffee for himself, he discovered Gabriel'd already done it.

They ate in silence for a minute or two before Jack said hesitantly, "I see you decided not to get Bisquick."

Gabriel snorted but didn't look up. "Didn't want to make it too easy for you."

Too _easy?_ Like making biscuits the _right_ way was _hard?_ Like he would ever touch that garbage in the first place? He'd go _without_ biscuits before he used that crap! Jack's jaw clenched in indignation and he looked up, about to give Reyes a piece of his mind, only to discover Reyes watching through his lashes for Jack's reaction. When he saw that Jack had taken the bait, he smirked and then took a healthy bite of butter-soaked biscuit.

The anger popped, leaving Jack off-balance and feeling foolish. Of _course_ Gabriel had only been trying to rile him up. It had just been so long that he'd forgotten what that give-and-take was like. He let his eyes drop back to his plate.

"You slept on the couch," he said quietly.

Gabriel snorted again. "I'm sorry, Jack, did you _want_ to sleep on the couch?"

He ignored the sarcasm. "The bed's big enough for two; neither of us has to sleep on the couch. It wouldn't be _nearly_ the most risqué thing we've ever done," he added dryly.

"Yeah, but just so you know, this is where I spend the night when I'm getting laid. The only time I sleep here is when I've brought someone back with me."

Jack forced himself to ignore the implications of having been brought here. "And?"

"And you might wake up as the little spoon," Gabriel warned him. "I can't be held responsible if that happens."

"You really think I'd object to that?" Jack asked softly, raising his eyes briefly to Gabriel's, a painful smile playing about his lips. He looked back down before he could see rejection in his best friend's expression, winding himself tighter to hold that years-old bleeding wound shut.

After a minute of strained silence, Gabriel sighed. "Fine. We'll share the bed. Now finish your breakfast so I can do the dishes. Ah," he said as Jack looked up to protest. "Don't even start. You know better than that. You cook, I fucking clean."

 _But I'm a guest,_ Jack wanted to say. Gabriel was almost glowering at him, though, waiting for an objection so he could shoot it down. The urge to protest died slowly, smothered under tentative warmth, and Jack only realized he was smiling tiredly when Gabriel's expression shifted to relieved satisfaction.

"We're going food shopping again after breakfast," Gabriel announced as Jack returned to his breakfast. "I can handle bacon, eggs, and things for biscuits. Lunch and dinner is all on you. Unless you want to go out," he added casually.

Jack shook his head. "Too much chance of being recognized. I'll cook."

"Alright. I'll need to pick up some beer, then." Gabriel collected their empty dishes and headed to the sink.

"You've _got_ beer."

"It's been there too long," Gabriel replied almost cheerfully. "We'd need Mercy to save them."

Jack felt a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not sure she _could_. And even if she did," he continued as Gabriel chuckled, "would you really want to drink that?"

"Only if it was trying to drink _me_ ," Gabriel joked. "There's only one way I'll allow bodily fluids to get sucked out of me, and I'm not about to let a beer give me a blowjob."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Gabe. It would never be able to get you in, even a wide-mouth can."

At the sink, Gabriel froze. Then he turned to look at Jack over his shoulder, astonishment turning into a broad smile as he saw Jack's. Only then did Jack realize that he'd been bantering with Gabriel, the way they used to.

The way he'd thought they never would again.

Jack's smile turned shy, half of him giddy at reconnecting with Gabriel like this and the other half wanting to retreat in exhausted embarrassment that what had once been effortless now took work and mental energy. Gabriel gave him a brief look of approval and encouragement before turning back around as if embarrassed himself to have been caught showing those emotions.

 

* * *

 

Jack wondered dully, on the way to the store, if the car in the garage space had been paid for by misappropriated Overwatch funds. Thinking about it took too much effort and he gave up, deciding he didn't care. Grocery shopping was dry and tiring, brief phrases exchanged here and there when one of them peeled off to grab something but no more than that. Remembering what equipment he had and had not seen in Gabriel's kitchen, Jack opted for ingredients to make stir-fry and pizza. Gabriel spent a lot of time perusing beers, only to come back with some pouches as well. He didn't meet Jack's eyes as he put them in the cart, and a glance told Jack why: they were pre-made strawberry daiquiris, meant to be frozen and enjoyed at home. On the one hand, strawberry. But on the other hand...

Gritting his teeth, Jack took the cart to the produce section. He didn't drink, and Gabriel _knew_ it.

When he finished selecting peppers and turned back to the cart, _someone_ had added two cartons of strawberries and a package of ladyfingers. Gabriel was, of course, nowhere to be seen. Jack sighed and went over to dairy for a carton of heavy cream, then the baking aisle for sugar and vanilla. Gabriel came back with a box of _chocolate-covered frozen strawberries -_ Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to lunge for them or glare - and put them in the cart with an unrepentant look before going off for god-only-knew-what.

By the time they got to checkout, a bottle of strawberry soda and a small cheesecake covered in strawberries had _mysteriously_ appeared among the rest of the groceries. Gabriel didn't say a word as he scanned the items; Jack didn't say a word as he bagged them. The ride back was silent.

He appropriated the produce while Reyes put away the rest of the groceries, ignoring the other man in favor of a sharp knife and the cutting board. He was halfway through the first pepper when a spoonful of something red and white appeared in front of his face. Annoyed, he ate it, and the sweet tang of strawberry and cheesecake made his hands pause in surprise as the world around him resumed existing. As soon as he swallowed, another spoonful of strawberry cheesecake was in front of him. Somewhere around the third or fourth bite he turned his head to see Gabriel perched cheerfully on the counter, the cheesecake in one hand, offering him yet another spoonful with a grin that was equal parts smug and delighted.

The rest of the stir-fry prep went quickly and deliciously.

 

* * *

 

"Feeling better?" Gabriel asked as he took the lunch dishes over to the sink.

Jack leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Yeah. Sorry about-"

"Don't. Don't apologize." He turned to glare at Jack before returning his attention to the dishes. "You had to have had a shittier week than I did, and I almost died of exposure, so don't you _even_ apologize for not being a ray of fucking sunshine, Morrison!"

"Yes, sir," Jack said with a small smile.

"That's _better_. Now get over here and check the daiquiri pouches. See if they're frozen."

The warm amusement faded. "Gabe..."

Gabriel moved the last plate to the drying rack and checked the freezer. He took a pouch out, squeezed it, cut the top off and stuck in a bendy straw before setting it down in front of Jack with a stern expression.

"I know," he said in a more gentle tone than his expression suggested. "You don't drink because your dad was a Grade A asswipe. I know you haven't had the best experience with alcohol, but trust me on this, okay? It doesn't have to be getting shitfaced and passing out. It can be just loosening up. You're not going to get drunk on one strawberry daiquiri, especially not on a full stomach. You're going to sip it slowly and relax a little because you're so tense you _didn't even drink your root beer float_ and that worried me, alright? Here," he said, taking the pouch back and grabbing Jack's wrist. "Come with me. To the couch. We'll chill out together."

Jack let himself be pulled to his feet, guilt mixing with warmth that Gabriel was worried about him. He let Gabriel sit him on the couch, sipped tentatively at his frozen drink while some movie played, and thought about the days when sharing a couch inevitably meant one of them with his legs over the arm and his head in the other's lap. Was Gabriel sitting on the other end because he was giving Jack space? Because he was inviting Jack to sprawl on him? Because he was _discouraging_ Jack from getting close? He didn't know, and it was bothering him. The guarded looks Gabriel was shooting at him didn't help and, sulkily, he sipped at the strawberry daiquiri and cursed it silently for tasting so good.

When the pouch was empty, Gabriel stood up and held one hand out in a silent demand for it. Jack let him have it, his eyes somewhere around knee level, and listened as Gabriel went into the kitchen. When he came back, it was with a glass of strawberry soda, an actual strawberry slid onto the straw as an edible decoration.

"If I thought you had any room left," Gabriel said as he handed the glass over, "I would have brought the cheesecake with me."

Gabe _cared_. That soothed Jack, but what he really needed was something to keep his hands busy.

"Bring me the strawberries," he announced, making Gabriel freeze halfway to sitting down. "And a big bowl, a small bowl, and a paring knife."

Gabriel hesitated, then stood back up. "We didn't wash the strawberries yet," he said slowly. "How about I whip the cream while you do that?"

For a moment, Jack struggled to turn 'whip the cream' into an innuendo. Then he gave up and nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

"I'm counting on you to add the sugar," Gabriel said, grinning.

Jack found himself grinning back. "And the vanilla?"

"Of course."

Movie forgotten, they adjourned to the kitchen for the quiet comfort of preparing food.

 

* * *

 

Working in the kitchen, over a hot stove as he sautéed mushrooms and sausage slices and a little bacon, was hot and thirsty work. He had just put the pizza in the oven and was finishing his second glass of strawberry soda when it occurred to him that the reason it was so cool and _fruity_ was that Gabe had been using daiquiri slush to cool it. He'd _known_ Gabriel was doing that, he'd seen him open the pouches between popping open cans of beer for himself, but he didn't connect that with the alcohol until he already felt...loose. There was worry in Gabriel's eyes as he watched Jack realize he was tipsy, but Jack just set the timer. 

Gabe was worried about him. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to Jack, right? He was the only one Jack could lean on.

"Jack, you okay? You're spacing out."

Jack shook his head carefully. "I'm...fine. This is what you wanted to happen, right?"

Gabriel didn't look reassured. "Sit on the couch, Jack. I can take the pizza out and serve it. Do you want more soda? Or..."

"I want what you think I should have," Jack said shortly.

He sat on the couch, sipping slushy soda while Reyes watched him silently, until the timer went off. The sounds of appreciation and compliments were almost background noise. Then Reyes was handing him a plate with two slices, coming back with two more slices for himself and a beer, and lounging on the other end of the couch while the long-forgotten movie from earlier was allowed to continue.

It _was_ good pizza. Jack hadn't had the heart to make it for himself since...the explosion...but he hadn't lost the knack. Gabriel was making enthusiastic sounds as he devoured his slices and washed them down with cold beer.

"I'm getting some more while it's still warm," Gabriel announced. "You still good, Jack?"

Jack looked down at the half a slice he was working on. He always made the same size pizza; they always sliced it into six pieces. Sometimes they each ate three; sometimes Jack had two and Gabriel ate the rest.

"I'm good," he said quietly.

Gabriel came back with the other two slices and another beer. Watching his unabashed enjoyment made Jack feel somehow more human; more like himself. When Gabriel had swallowed the last bite of crust, he put his plate on the coffee table and leaned back with a contented groan that always made Jack think of post-orgasmic bliss.

"I swear, Morrison, I'm going to marry you for your pizza."

The words jolted down his spine, like they always did. It was a ritual almost as long as their friendship, and Jack always countered with reasons they couldn't. _I'd have to resign. We'd get court-martialed. We're being attacked by killer robots. You'd have to resign. Petras would have our balls on a silver platter._ But this time...this time, there was nothing to counter with. No way to jokingly deny the insincere suggestion he wanted so very much to be sincere.

"Well," he said slowly, "at least neither of us would have to resign?"

"Exactly." Gabriel looked _pleased_ by this.

Jack looked away, drinking alcoholic strawberry and trying to swallow the knot of emotions that brought up. Gabe knew he was wearing their dog tags; knew he'd _been_ wearing their dog tags. Had guessed at the intent because he'd probably seen them the time they went to bed together. Had to know that Jack had... _feelings_. This wasn't a serious suggestion; it couldn't be, this was just their usual pizza banter. But Jack wanted _so much_ for it not to be, and having that dangled in front of him hurt.

"So let's make it official," Gabriel continued.

Only the fact that Jack had frozen completely saved him from choking. He hadn't - he _couldn't_ have heard that right. He was imagining it, right? Wide-eyed and pulse pounding, he threw a panicky look at Gabriel.

Gabriel looked back in confusion. Then his eyes widened. "Calm down, Morrison," he said firmly. "I'm drunk. Forget I said anything. Let me get you some of that strawberry shortcake we made."

Mutely, Jack let Gabriel take his plate. He came back a minute later, pouring the last pouch of slush into Jack's glass, and then sat down next to him with a huge bowl of ladyfingers layered with sliced strawberries and whipped cream.

"Come on," he urged, tugging Jack closer and putting an arm around him. "Lean against me. Easier on my arms that way."

Still shaky, Jack leaned against Gabriel's chest, simultaneously wishing Gabriel had never seen the dog tags so he wouldn't know how much Jack _wanted_ and this could be their usual innocent comfort, and that Gabriel returned his feelings and this could be everything it had never been. He sipped his drink and let Gabriel feed him delicious sweet-tart strawberries and cool cream and soft cake and pretended to watch the movie when in reality he was feeling warm and floaty and it was getting hard to remember why he shouldn't just enjoy this.

"Relaxed now?" Gabriel asked with quiet amusement as he put the empty bowl aside.

Jack belched, making room for the last sip of strawberry goodness. "Mmm."

"Good. You all comfy?"

He was full of delicious and wanted to lay down. Muzzily, he sat up and pushed at Gabriel until the other man moved the bowl to the table and scooted over. Then he fell over - slowly - to put his head on Gabriel's thigh, and sighed. _Now_ he was comfy. He couldn't see the movie very well, but he didn't care. He was stuffed and floaty and Gabe's arm was draped over his side, hand tangling with his. Jack closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Jack woke up as the little spoon, exactly as Gabriel warned might happen, but it made him feel warm and _connected_ the way he hadn't really experienced since they'd gone to bed together 'to see if they clicked' all those years ago. _He'd_ thought they'd clicked, but apparently Gabe hadn't...

No, wait. Gabe said he'd lied. That brought all kinds of implications that stole Jack's breath and shook him to his core, tugging at the wrapping holding that bleeding wound shut. He took slow breaths, carefully ignoring each and every implication, until he was no longer in danger of upending his mental stability.

That's when he realized that Gabriel had morning wood, and that he was again wearing nothing but briefs. He could feel Gabe's hands on his skin, his face pressed to the back of Jack's neck, their legs tangled together as Gabriel slowly ground against him in his sleep. As much as Jack wanted to just lay there drowsily and enjoy the illusion of a deeper relationship, he was remembering Gabriel's drunken assertion that they should _make it official_ and suddenly everything was feeling a little too much like a cruel joke.

Carefully, Jack freed himself from Gabriel's sleepy embrace and fled to take a shower.

Gabriel shuffled into the kitchen, once more in a pair of sweatpants, while Jack was cooking breakfast. He hadn't wanted to poke around in Gabriel's things, so he'd taken a fresh pair of briefs out of the pack in the bathroom and put his borrowed jeans back on and called that good enough. Gabriel poured them coffee and took it to the table, where he sat and sipped until Jack set breakfast down in front of him.

"That wasn't the way I meant it to come out," Gabriel said quietly. "Last night, I mean. But I think we should cohabitate."

Jack gave him a lopsided smile. "Well, it's not like I have anywhere else to go, but are you sure...?"

"This place is too big for one person," Gabriel said firmly. "Trust me, I know. I, uh, turned the other bedroom into a gym, though..."

Suddenly, a budget line item sprang to Jack's mind. "Covert off-site training facility?"

Gabriel looked away and coughed.

"Gabe..." Jack put his fork down and leaned into his hands, laughing. "I want to say I can't believe you, but I know you better than that." He leaned back, grinning broadly and letting his hands drop.

 Gabriel had been watching warily from the corner of his eye, but after a moment he grinned back. "So, is that a _yes_ on living together?"

Jack picked his fork up again. "You don't mind sharing your bed?"

"I'm not selling my bed for a pair of singles," he said with an amused snort.

"You sure?" Jack grinned at him. "We could get bunk beds and fight over who gets to be on top."

Gabriel hesitated a second, swallowed what he'd been chewing, and smirked. "My apartment, my rules. Permanent dibs on the top bunk. Oh, come on," he said as Jack mock-pouted. "You don't want me on top?"

The night they'd spent together flashed before Jack's eyes and he blushed. "We'll keep the bed," he said. "More egalitarian that way."

"Yes, sir," Gabriel said, smiling.

"I'll need clothes, though."

The smirk came back. "Is it not satisfying, getting into my pants after all this time?"

Jack blushed harder, but the reminder of what he was missing cut a bit too deep and he looked away. "No," he said quietly. "It's not."

Scraping sounds; Gabriel moved to the chair next to Jack and scooted closer. One hand on his arm urged Jack silently to take the unspoken offer of comfort and he did, turning to press his face into the warm bulk of Gabriel's shoulder.

"I didn't mean that to hurt," Gabriel said quietly. "I'm still getting used to having you back without almost dying and it's making me say dumb things."

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I thought you hated me."

_Corridor, lit only by the fires behind Gabriel as he looked at Jack with an expression of utter loathing and raised one shotgun. Pain as he fired and the bullet caught him in the side, and then the explosion..._

The arms tight around him told Jack that Gabriel was remembering the same thing. "Jack, no," he murmured. "There was a guy behind you. I didn't mean to hit you. I don't blame you for thinking that. I'm sorry."

Wrapping holding that deep wound shut shredded and Jack clung to Gabriel, feeling the warmth of his skin as tears bled from his eyes and one hand rubbed comforting circles into his back. Gabriel didn't hate him. But then in the wake of painful relief came guilt, because the way he'd been acting...keeping himself firmly neutral, leaving as soon as Gabriel was stable...

Oh god, had Gabriel thought Jack hated him?

"Gabe...I'm sorry I was so cold to you."

"Don't," Gabe said firmly. "I don't blame you. You thought I hated you and you came back anyway. I don't know how you have the patience to be so nice," he teased gently. "I would have kicked my ass to the curb a long time ago."

Words stuck in Jack's throat, things like _but that would be asking you to change_ and _I love you_.

"I knew what you were like," he said instead. "If I'd had a problem with it, you would have known by the end of our first year together."

Gabriel's arms tightened just a little. "You're too fucking nice, Morrison," he growled.

 _I'd rather be too nice than miss out on something special because I rejected a person based on a few flaws._ Jack swallowed those words. "Gabriel...whatever your reasons for being with Talon were, you don't have to talk about them if you don't want to. They don't matter. You don't hate me; _that's_ what matters."

For a long minute Gabriel froze. Then, slowly, he relaxed and the hand on Jack's back resumed rubbing in comforting circles. "I appreciate that," he said slowly.

 _I appreciate you_. "I missed you," Jack whispered, letting the understatement say everything he couldn't.

Gabriel's cheek pressed gently against his head. "I missed you, too."

That confirmation, both that Gabriel cared and that it had hurt watching Jack walk away, shattered what was left of his composure.

"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs. "I wouldn't have left if I'd known. I thought...I thought I was pushing my luck just being there until you were stable."

"Shhh. Don't beat yourself up, alright?" Gabriel shifted to pull Jack closer, still rubbing his back comfortingly. "It's not like I'm upfront about my feelings."

_I lied. The answer was yes._

Too much; Jack focused on taking deep breaths, wrapping himself up tightly again until he was no longer in danger of being broken by the possibility that Gabriel wasn't being upfront about his feelings _at that very moment_.

"Thank you for being so good to me," Jack said once he was calm again. Gabriel released him, and he sat up to give the other man a small smirk. " _Most_ of the time."

Gabriel smirked back. "You know you wouldn't have it any other way." A beat, and then he said, "So is that a _yes_ on adding Bisquick to the shopping list?"

Jack punched him gently in the shoulder, but they were both laughing.

 

* * *

 

"You really brought nothing with you?" Gabriel asked as he drove them back to the apartment. "That's not like you."

"I left a cache in Russia," Jack answered. "I hadn't even set up a camp yet. I was planning on doing a quick raid for supplies, so I had nothing with me when I saw the Talon ship get hit on the way out. Thought it had gotten away until your beacon went off. Cache was too far away to go back for the biotic emitter; I had to grab what I could and hope it was enough."

Gabriel kept his eyes on the road. "Why did you call for help?"

"Speeder didn't have enough charge to get us back to somewhere safe."

"Hmph. Ziegler give you the third degree for disappearing like that?"

Jack swallowed futile grief at the memory of Gabriel's lifeless face, the lack of a pulse in his neck. He'd stumbled to his office, left his Strike-Commander's jacket folded neatly on his desk as a sign that he was still alive. Then he'd called up the picture of the three of them - him, Gabe, and Ana - and used the blood leaking from his side to mark each of their faces in a grim plea that no one look for him; he was as dead as the other two.

"No," he said quietly.

Gabriel glanced at him, then reached out and took his hand for a brief squeeze. "Hey. Jack. Stay with me. It's okay. I'm alive, you're alive, and there's still enough strawberry shortcake left to gorge yourself on when we get back home."

 _Home_. Gabe's apartment. It didn't really qualify as 'home' for Gabriel, much less Jack, but what did? The officers' quarters in the Zurich HQ? Had Jack even _had_ a home since the crash?

"Jack! Damn it, Morrison, snap out of it!"

Jack shook himself out of the dark spiral his thoughts had gone down. "Sorry."

Gabriel was frowning at him in brief glances as he drove. "I can believe Ziegler didn't interrogate you if you were doing that, and you probably were."

"Is it that bad?" he asked sheepishly.

"You just gave me flashbacks to when you were still in basic. _Yes,_ it's that bad. I'd bring you to a therapist if I thought you'd talk to one, but you've needed one since you were eighteen and it was like pulling teeth to get you to talk to _me_."

"I may have some issues trusting authority," Jack said dryly, making Gabriel snort.

"You _think?_ I'm amazed you listened to me at all past just obeying orders."

"You looked out for me," Jack said quietly. "You _cared_. You were the first one who made me feel safe since I was about seven."

Gabriel pulled up to the apartment, parked, and looked at Jack. "Shit. Really? I mean, I know that's when your mom..."

"That's when they found the cancer, yeah." Jack took a deep breath and stared at his hands, fisted on his knees. "Gabe...I know I've told you what my childhood was like. No one stepped in. No one tried to help me. No one looked at a twelve-year-old signing his little sister's permission slips and said 'this shouldn't be happening'. Everyone knew what was going on by the time..." He broke off. Gabriel laid a hand on his and he gripped it tightly. "I had no one to lean on until you sat me down that first time."

Awkwardly, given the constraints of the car, Gabriel leaned over and pulled Jack into as tight a hug as he could manage.

"Remember that time your phone went missing for three hours?" he murmured.

Jack blinked at the change of subject. "Yes?"

"It was me. I said I was looking for it, but I brought it here and copied all your music."

"I didn't think you liked it that much," Jack joked.

Gabriel released him and gave him a look that was trying, and failing, to be a scowl. "It was for you, dumbass! I did it so if I ever brought you here, or if I ever got you a gift that could hold music, I could put all your favorites on it!"

Ignoring the implications of _if I ever brought you here_ , Jack smiled. "That's really sweet of you, Gabe. Thank you."

"And now you have a brand new phone, so get your ass inside and load it up!"

"Just my ass?"

He got a mock-glare for that. "Get that ass moving, Morrison!"

"Yes, sir." A beat, and then Jack added, "So, does this mean you want me to twerk...?"

Laughing at Gabriel's expression, he fled the car without waiting for an answer.


	6. New leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not easy to make things right when they've been wrong for so long, and harder when the person you wronged is so broken, but Gabriel's not a tactical genius for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In before "good husbando". XD

It took Jack a few days to settle in enough to feel bored. Adjusting to being around Gabriel again was most of it, and the flirty-but-not-too-flirty balance they worked out together. Sparring, working out, going for runs - that aspect was a welcome change from his vagabond life, as was having a kitchen to cook in. They spent the evenings playing video games or watching movies, and while Jack didn't always go to bed with Gabriel cuddled up to him, that's inevitably how he woke.

Neither of them talked about what had happened since just before the explosion.

Angela Ziegler had - reluctantly - released both of them on the conditions that they stayed in town and returned after a week for a check-in, and the thought of facing her was making Jack quiet and withdrawn as he and Gabriel prepared for bed. Pajamas, he thought as he picked up the pajama top, were a welcome re-addition to his life. They'd negotiated a compromise with regards to what was or was not acceptable for wearing to bed. Gabriel had conceded to wearing pajama bottoms to bed rather than his usual nothing, whereas Jack was more comfortable in top _and_ bottom, although his half of their compromise was that he wore nothing underneath the bottoms.

"Jack?"

He shook himself, wondering how long he'd been staring at the pajama top. "Hmm? Oh, just thinking about our check-in tomorrow."

Gabriel looked at him in sympathy. "Not looking forward to what Angela may or may not ask?"

Jack sighed. "Yeah."

"Need a distraction?"

Something to keep his thoughts out of dark spirals. He sighed again. "Yeah."

Gabriel kissed him.

This wasn't a quick peck or a chaste application of lips. Jack was being _kissed_ , and it was a good thing Gabriel had his arms around him because Jack's knees gave out and he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed watching Gabe's half-lidded gaze as he withdrew from the kiss. His heart pounded, the entire contents of his brain evenly split between _yes yes yes_ and utter terror. This wasn't...

"Gabe..."

Gabriel took Jack's hand and brought it to the front of his pajamas, let him feel the hardness under the cloth.

Jack burst into tears. The mattress sank beside him and then he was being held, his head resting on Gabriel's chest as he cried, Gabriel rocking him gently and murmuring reassurance.

"Jack, Jack, it's okay. Breathe. I'm right here. I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay, Jack, You're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you. It's okay, Jack. We won't do anything you're not comfortable with. Breathe. I've got you, you're safe."

"Gabe..."

"I'm here, Jack." One hand rubbed his back soothingly. "What is it?"

"You..." Jack's throat closed up again. He wasn't even sure what words were being choked back.

"You sexy thang?" Gabriel joked softly. Jack choked out a brief chuckle, and Gabriel kissed the top of his head. "It's okay, Jack. you don't have to talk if you don't want to."

Jack lifted his head from Gabriel's chest to his shoulder, the familiar position soothing him a little. They sat there in silence, rocking slightly and listening to Jack's ragged breathing slowly calm down.

"You wanted...?" he whispered into Gabriel's neck.

"Yeah. I _wanted_ to kiss you, you sexy thang."

That both made Jack laugh and shed a handful more tears. "I guess that answers _why,_ " he said dryly.

"I was hoping for an emotional reaction, but this wasn't the one I was thinking of." Gabriel hugged Jack tighter. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. And don't apologize," he added firmly as Jack opened his mouth to do just that. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

Another few minutes of gently-rocking silence passed while Jack tried to think about Gabriel _wanting_ to kiss him. His thoughts kept shredding into spirals of keening denial.

" _Je ne sais pas,_ " he whispered.

Gabriel froze. "Jack," he said in a strangled voice, "that's French."

Jack stuck his arm out. After a moment, Gabriel leaned awkwardly over to lay a row of slow, gentle kisses from Jack's wrist up to his shoulder. Then he hugged Jack tightly.

"Want me to go slow?" he whispered. Jack nodded awkwardly. "Okay. We'll go slow. I don't want to hurt you. We'll talk about it in the morning, okay?"

Jack nodded again.

"Okay. I won't do anything else tonight. Anything you want to do to me, do it. Okay?"

Briefly, Jack lipped at Gabriel's neck, but the strangled moan that got made his pulse race unhappily again and he stopped. "Just hold me," he whispered.

They went to bed with Jack as the little spoon.

 

* * *

 

Jack woke up in the bed, by himself, with the shower running. Before he could brood about how _alone_ that made him feel, the shower shut off.

A minute later, Gabriel left the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and stopped dead at the sight of the empty bed. Then Jack's arms slid around him from behind, his cheek nestled against the back of Gabriel's neck, and he relaxed.

"Good morning to you, too," he said quietly. "How are you feeling?"

Sulkily, Jack hugged tighter and made a quiet, unhappy sound.

"You want a hug?"

Jack's grip on him loosened; he turned around and hugged Jack tightly. It was a handful of minutes before Jack sighed and stepped back.

"Missed our morning cuddling?" Gabriel asked lightly. That got him a scowl and an insincere punch to the shoulder, which made him laugh and pull Jack in for another hug. "I promised I'd go slow," he murmured, "so I took a shower. You know me, Jack."

Now that he was thinking rather than reacting, Jack felt a bit sheepish. Spending a week in close proximity to someone he was physically attracted to _and_ had a habit of jokingly flirting with would have had Gabriel at the boiling point.

"Yeah," he murmured, stepping back. "You get dressed, I'll start on breakfast."

Gabriel nodded, and Jack went to the kitchen to discover that Gabe had started the coffee before his shower. He got out the usual ingredients and poured both of their mugs, and when Gabriel wandered in wearing a t-shirt and jeans, Jack offered him his mug and then leaned over it to kiss him briefly. They both froze, Gabriel looking torn between fear for Jack and wanting to put the mug aside and just take him on the counter. Having made an overture that _couldn't_ be mistaken for just their usual joking and have it not be rejected made Jack both blush and grin in delight. He turned away, as if that would prevent Gabriel from seeing anything, and pulled the skillet down from its hook.

"I did some thinking," Gabriel said, leaning against the counter as Jack got started. "Let me know how this sounds for me going slow. No touching the butt, no going in the undies, no kissing above the neck, no hickeys."

"That sounds reasonable," Jack said, still blushing. "And I can..."

"Do whatever you feel comfortable doing. I do have one request."

Jack looked over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"If you need to jerk it, let me at least watch?"

The thought of Gabriel watching, seeing, _knowing_ how much Jack wanted him made him freeze. Then warm arms wrapped around his torso and Gabriel was kissing his shoulder through the fabric of his pajamas.

"Jack, come back to me. It's okay. You can say no."

"But..."

" _You can say no_. Damn it, Morrison, you're allowed to have boundaries!"

Jack put down the wooden spoon and pressed one hand to Gabriel's. "I don't want to shut you out," he said quietly.

"You're not. I promise. Jack, I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want you to hurt _yourself_. If you don't want me to do something, then _tell_ me." Gabriel waited for a minute, but Jack didn't say anything. " _Damn_ it, Morrison! If I were stepping on your foot, would you tell me and ask me to stop?"

"Yes, but-"

"But _nothing!_ I'd be hurting you, damaging you. If I'm doing something you don't want me to do, then I'm stepping on your emotional foot _and you need to tell me to stop._ "

Jack put down the egg he'd been holding and pressed his other hand to Gabriel's. "Okay."

Gabriel hugged him tighter before letting go. "Good. Jesus _fuck_ , Jack, I want to bitchslap every adult in your hometown."

"I can think of better things for you to do with your hands," Jack countered, picking up the egg again.

There was a beat or two before what he'd said sank in to both of them, and then Jack blushed while Gabriel laughed.

"I would have been content to watch," he teased, "but if you want me to get personally involved, just say the word."

"We'll see," Jack said, but secretly, he knew he would.

 

* * *

 

"You're looking much better," Angela Ziegler said warmly.

Jack gave her a lopsided smile. "I _feel_ much better."

"I feared for the worst when I saw your...message," she said hesitantly. "Gabriel was adamant that you did not mean you intended to kill yourself, but..."

He looked away. "I saw him die."

"I hesitate to ask," she said, asking anyway, "but how did you come to be in the middle of the Russian countryside with him?"

"Was tailing Talon," he answered shortly. "One of their ships got clipped on the way out; his beacon went off shortly after. I didn't ask why they had him."

Ziegler flinched minutely, then gave him a warm smile. "Well, I commend your rescue efforts. I doubt he would have survived without your excellent care."

He shrugged. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

"I don't know if you're aware, Jack, but you were never declared legally dead. You could-"

"Could _what?_ " he asked with quiet venom. "I saw the news. I know about the Petras Act. What could Jack Morrison do that _wouldn't_ be Overwatch activity?"

"My Valkyries could use someone to watch their backs when they go into dangerous areas in search of lives to save," Ziegler said evenly. "If there is anyone I would rather have protecting them than you, it would be Gabriel."

"Hypocritical to have a soldier along, isn't it? To kill so that other lives can be saved?"

Ziegler straightened primly. "Who ever said you would be _killing?_ Your weapons would be biotic darts that induce sleep."

Sleep darts. He supposed that made sense.

"I asked Gabriel, but he refused unless you also agreed to it."

She...asked Gabriel? But she hadn't been alone with him at all after she'd picked them up in Russia. Had they talked after...whatever she'd done to resurrect him?

Had they talked while he was going as Reaper?

Jack looked at Angela, weighing her with his eyes. "I'll discuss it with him. We'll get back to you."

She smiled. "That is all I ask. Now, let us see how your body has fared."

 

* * *

 

Gabriel kept shooting worried looks at him as he drove them back, which let Jack know that he wasn't dealing with things nearly as well as he thought he was. When Gabriel pulled into a drive-through and got him a strawberry-chocolate milkshake, he accepted it with a thank-you kiss on Gabriel's cheek.

"Want to talk about it?" Gabriel asked quietly as they pulled away.

Jack sipped his milkshake, feeling the sweet flavors soothe him slightly. "Angela wants us to protect her first-responders with sleep darts."

"Up to you," Gabriel said immediately.

"I told her we'd talk about it."

"Then we'll talk about it, but Jack...whatever you decide to do, I'm not only going to support you but be there _with_ you. You gave me your hand, remember?"

Jack looked at him, haunted by the memory of threatened marriage in the name of pizza, and saw the sternly-concerned expression of his CO on Gabriel's face. This wasn't flirting, even in jest. This was the echo of the first adult Jack had trusted to give a fuck about him, the man who'd pretended it was just routine but had quietly taken one country boy under his hard-ass wing. The man who'd sat him down countless times for comfort food and a supportive ear. The man who Jack trusted with his life.

He gave Gabriel a small nod. "Thank you."

Gabriel smiled in relief. "Good. Drink your shake."

"Yes, sir," Jack answered with a smile of his own.

 

* * *

 

The home gym in the spare bedroom was everything Jack had expected Gabriel to make it, including usable by two people at once. They went from station to station, Jack giving Gabriel brief kisses as they passed each other, burying his blush in sweat and burning off the adrenaline that accompanied each one with physical exertion. By the time they stopped for showers and lunch, Jack was feeling much more comfortable with the simple act of kissing. Granted, Gabriel's smoldering looks of hunger helped reassure decades-old anxiety that it was mistaken, and Jack's advances were not only tolerated but _welcome_.

Maybe it was time, Jack thought as he showered in the master bath, to thank Gabe for putting up with his teasing during their workout.

He toweled off and stood beside the bedroom door, waiting for Gabriel to enter in search of clothes after having showered in the other bathroom. Sure enough, the other man padded in wearing nothing but damp skin and hesitated when he saw the empty room and open bathroom door. Jack slid his arms around Gabriel's torso, feeling him relax and then stiffen as it sunk in that Jack wasn't wearing anything, either.

"Jack..."

"I'm not ready to go all the way again yet," Jack said in a low voice that only shook a little. "But I want to go a little further. Maybe get hands-on."

Gabriel's hands covered his. "Okay. Tell me what you want me to do."

Jack pressed his lips to Gabriel's shoulder, swallowing a flutter of fear. "Last night, you kissed me like you were starving, drowning, _dying._ I want you to kiss me like that again."

"Fuck, Jack," Gabriel breathed.

Butterflies in his belly, Jack loosened his grip and Gabriel turned in his arms, returned the embrace, and began kissing Jack the way he'd been dreaming of for far longer than he wanted to think about. Not that he could think in the face of that passion; Jack could barely _stand_ , but it didn't make a difference because Gabriel was holding him up, pressing their bodies together, urging Jack back step by step until they bumped into the side of the bed. Jack sat abruptly, then scooted back and lay down with his arms outstretched in an invitation that Gabriel took gladly, crawling onto the bed to hold himself just off of Jack's body as he resumed kissing fiercely, desperately, like he could express the depths of his feelings with his mouth.

Feelings.

"Stop," Jack gasped.

Instantly, Gabriel froze.

Jack hugged him tightly, eyes closed and face pressed against his neck, letting the panic that hadn't fully been awakened slide back into sleep.

"Too much?" Gabe asked softly.

Answering that honestly would raise questions Jack didn't want to answer. "Spoon me," he murmured instead, loosening his desperate grip.

With Gabriel warm against his back - and more importantly, unable to see Jack's expression - he felt much more secure. Biting his lip against anxiety he _knew_ was dumb, he covered Gabriel's hand with his. Then he started urging that hand lower, practically holding his breath when Gabe guessed his intent and tensed.

"Jack," he murmured as his fingers brushed sensitive skin, "you're sure you want me to do this?"

Firmly, Jack wrapped Gabriel's fingers around his stiffening manhood and then released his hand. Against his back, he could feel Gabriel's arousal. He moaned against Jack's neck, but didn't say anything else as his fingers tightened and he started stroking. Jack closed his eyes and relaxed, letting the gentle motions stoke a fire as they sped up. One thing was certain; Gabriel Reyes knew how to handle a penis. Jack's breathing sped up to match, interspersed with soft sounds of appreciation for what was happening in Gabriel's fist and quietly begging for more. Gabriel was breathing more harshly as well, Jack's pleasure working him up.

When Jack came, it felt like the fulfillment of every fantasy he'd ever had since back before the SEP and only the complete inability to think or move prevented him from telling Gabe how much he loved him. The most he could manage was a deep, satisfied groaning sigh as he rolled onto his back. From beside him, Gabriel let out the same sigh.

Jack frowned through his afterglow and turned to see Gabriel's hand fall from his own dick.

"Gabe?" he asked softly.

"Mmm. Sorry if you wanted to do that yourself," he murmured.

"It's fine."

Jack rolled the other way, sliding under Gabriel's arm to use his chest as a pillow, listening to the soft _thump-thump_ of his heart. Lazily, Gabriel draped his arm around Jack, and they lay there contentedly for a handful of minutes.

"Thanks for letting me do that," Gabriel said quietly into the silence.

"Thanks for putting up with me," Jack countered.

The arm around him tightened. "It's not _putting up with you_ , dumbass," Gabriel growled. "I told you: I don't want to hurt you. We do things at _your_ pace because _I'm_ the asshole who fucked things up."

He was angry at himself, and Jack could not for the life of him think of what he was talking about when he supposedly fucked things up, so he draped one arm over Gabriel's chest in a half-hug. After a minute, Gabriel heaved an aggravated sigh.

"Damn it, I want to stay in bed with you but I'm hungry."

Jack chuckled. "You could stay in bed while I cook, but that's not really the same."

"Nope."

"I could cook in just an apron again."

"Done," Gabriel said instantly. "But if it's the one that says _Kiss the cook_ , we may not get much cooking done."

Their usual sexually-charged banter made Jack feel light and happy with an undercurrent of thrill because he _knew_ that it wasn't just banter; Gabriel was attracted to him, and welcomed sexual advances. If only-

Jack cut the thought short and grinned down at Gabriel as he sat up. What he had now was enough for the moment.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel had always been an eager observer any time Jack made pizza - 'watching the master at work' he said when asked - and this process generally involved spontaneous hugs, draping over Jack's shoulder, twirling him around, and slow-dancing with him from behind. But now that they were, uh, _friends with benefits_ , the process also involved Jack momentarily knocking Gabriel off-balance by kissing him. It was terrifying and exhilarating for Jack, being an equal participant rather than just having overtures made to him. Being able to flirt this way and know that if he was too bold, his attraction wouldn't be laughed off.

Once the pizza was in the oven, Gabriel tried to sweep Jack into a proper waltz or tango but quickly used a twirl to turn Jack around and embrace him from behind while they both swayed gently, his chin on Jack's shoulder, cheek to cheek.

"Better?" he murmured as Jack relaxed against him.

"Yeah. I'm so-"

"Shhh. None of that. You don't have to apologize. You're not comfortable with doing some things face to face, it's fine. We can do this. It's still dancing, I still get to hold you, but you're not pushing yourself."

Jack leaned back slightly, pressing his cheek against Gabe's. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me with pizza," Gabe joked. "I'm the one that's in your debt. If you want me to thank you in a more _hands-on_ manner later, just say the word."

That made Jack blush. Would he be so bold? Could he bring himself to ask for a handjob?

Probably not.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel sighed in deep satisfaction, both hands on his stomach. The sound, as always, went straight to Jack's loins. He glanced at Gabriel, wanting to see the expression of devotion, of _worship_ , that accompanied the post-pizza groan, and instead found himself looking at a man staring at him in guilty remorse.

A second later, it sank in.

_There wouldn't be a mock-threat this time._

Jack had panicked last time, when Gabriel suggested they make it official. He'd claimed he was drunk, something Jack chose to believe because he couldn't handle the alternative, but he _knew_ he'd crossed a line and made Jack uncomfortable. He wouldn't risk that again. He was breaking their pattern because he didn't want to upset Jack.

That _hurt_.

For the first time in close to forty years, Gabriel wasn't proposing marriage after pizza. Not because the pizza was sub-par, but because Jack couldn't handle the possibility of Gabriel _meaning_ what he said. Their pattern was broken because of _him_. It was _his_ fault.

Jack threw himself across the couch to hug Gabriel tightly, clinging to the startled man and struggling to keep his breathing steady, to find something - _anything_ \- that would communicate what he was feeling. He _wanted_ that joking proposal, wanted that shard of intimacy, wanted to feel _wanted_ , and being the cause of their broken pattern was almost physically painful.

_I want you to marry me for my pizza._

The words stuck in his throat, choking him because what if it was a joke after all? Gabriel knew how he felt, _had_ to know. He wouldn't...he wouldn't...

_It's not like I'm upfront about my feelings._

Oh god, what if it _wasn't_ a joke? What if he wanted...wanted, all this time, and _Jack_ had been laughing it off?

Jack buried his face in Gabriel's shoulder and shuddered. It was a handful of minutes before he dared lift his head and face Gabriel's worried expression. The light kiss he pressed to Gabriel's lips didn't reassure him any.

"Jack, are you okay?"

He looked away, unsure if he was or wasn't.

"Time for dessert," Gabriel announced firmly. "Stay there. I'll be right back."

Jack stayed there, guilt curdling in his belly, barely looking up as Gabriel reclaimed his place on the couch and pulled Jack in to lean against him. Jack sipped strawberry daiquiri slush and let Gabe feed him cheesecake with strawberries and buried his spiraling thoughts under the fact that Gabriel cared this much.

When he turned his head and kissed Gabriel, Gabe kissed back.

Somehow, in the absent-minded scramble to find more comfortable positions without breaking the kiss, Gabriel wound up with his head on the arm of the couch and his legs between Jack's, while Jack straddled him with his arms braced on either side of Gabriel's head and Gabriel's arms wrapped around his torso, urging him closer.

Jack pushed himself up further, breaking the kiss, in a moment of astonishment that he was _actually doing this_. Gabriel made a sound of wordless, begging protest that Jack had stopped kissing him, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted as if inviting Jack's to return. The realization that Gabriel wanted him, really _wanted_ him the way Jack had wanted Gabe for so long, took his breath away.

Gabriel licked his lips. "Jack...please..."

Uncertainty flooded Jack. "What...?"

"Anything," Gabe groaned. "Fuck, Jack. Anything you want to do."

His eyes were still closed. He couldn't see Jack's uncertain expression. Slowly, Jack lowered his head, giving Gabe a breath of warning before he resumed their kiss. Gabriel groaned into his mouth, arms tight around his torso, hips thrusting upward, but he followed Jack's lead. After a minute or two, Jack broke the kiss again to experiment with kissing Gabriel's jaw, throat, and the side of his neck, and Gabe lay obediently beneath him, eyes closed, gasping and letting out breathy moans to show his appreciation. It was getting harder to ignore the insistent ache in his cock, long since rock-hard.

"Gabe," he gasped, using the back of the couch to haul himself into an upright position and then something closer to standing, one foot on the floor, preparing for the short journey to the bedroom.

Gabriel opened his eyes and gave Jack a look as desperate as Jack felt. "Say the word," he growled breathlessly as he scrambled to kneel on the couch.

It took all of Jack's concentration to hiss a single syllable. "Yes."

Then Jack was being kissed again, frantically, hungrily, and he let Gabriel push him gently down until he was laying on the couch with his head on the arm. One hand by Jack's head held Gabriel up while the other fumbled at his pants - both of their pants? - and then Jack was gasping because the mouth he had been kissing was gone, only to reappear around the head of his penis. His eyes rolled back as Gabriel did something with his tongue and then moaned, the sound vibrating into sensitive flesh. Sensations softer, gentler, more insistent than anything he'd experienced, pleasure warmer and brighter than what he'd gotten from Gabriel's fist washed over him and he opened his mouth to - he wasn't sure what, thought was beyond him, there was only the electric thrill of Gabriel's mouth, and then there was a silent explosion of glory that made Jack cease to exist.

When Jack was able to scrape his brain back together again, he found himself cradled in Gabriel's arms, his head on Gabriel's shoulder.

"Mmmm. What...?"

"I popped your cherry," Gabe murmured smugly.

"You did that years ago," Jack countered lazily.

"Yeah, but I never sucked you off. And if _I_ didn't do it, I'm damn sure no one _else_ did it, so..." Gabriel hugged him tighter.

Jack turned his head and laid a kiss on Gabriel's jaw. "It was amazing."

"Mmmm. _Hearing_ you was amazing. I thought I was going to cream myself just from that."

That made Jack blush. He opened his mouth to say _I'd let you marry me for that_ but reconsidered. "You're _very_ welcome for the pizza," he said instead, nestling down comfortably into Gabe's arms. " _And_ you can kiss me above the neck."

Gabe turned his head and kissed Jack's temple gently.

 _I love you,_ Jack wanted to say, but the moment was too perfect.

 

* * *

 

"It's been a week," Gabe said from the table as Jack slid the tray of biscuits into the oven. "Do you want to talk about Angela's suggestion?"

Jack sighed and set the timer. "Not really, but we should."

Gabriel looked at him in concern as he sat down. "Talk to me, Jack."

He scrubbed his hands down his face, willing words to line neatly up and explain what was a jumbled mess in his head. They didn't cooperate.

"I don't know. It would be doing something _useful_ , something worthwhile. Helping others. Saving lives. Contributing to the world, doing my part to help clean up the mess left in the wake of Overwatch's..."

Gabriel held his tongue, but he _looked_ like he had plenty of suggestions.

"...disbanding," Jack said finally.

"Buuuut?"

"But I devoted so much of my life to Overwatch...doing something _else_ feels like rolling over and giving up without a fight."

"Because of the Petras Act," Gabriel said.

Jack glowered at the table. "I know I shouldn't take it personally, but I've been the face of Overwatch since the beginning. It's like saying _Oh no, Jack, we like YOU just fine! It's only everything you've done for the world that we think is a complete waste!_ It makes me want to say fine, you think everything I've done is a complete waste and you're better off without me, maybe I just won't do _anything._ " Sulkily, he crossed his arms.

"The world's a bunch of ungrateful brats," Gabriel said calmly. "They don't deserve you anyway. _Or_ the miracle of your pizza."

That made Jack smile, just a little. "You only love me for my pizza," he complained teasingly.

Gabriel grinned. "That's not true! ...I also love you for your biscuits."

Laughing, Jack shook his head ruefully. Then a little voice whispered, _what if he's telling the truth?_ and the thought that Gabriel could actually _love_ him stole his breath like a fist to the gut.

"Jack? Jack! _Morrison, look at me!"_

Some instincts never fade. Jack's gaze snapped to Gabriel's and he almost barked out _sir, yes sir!_ He was getting the 'your CO is worried about you' look again.

"You focus on breakfast," Gabriel said firmly. "I'm going to tell Angela that she can take her suggestion and administer it to herself rectally. After breakfast, we'll go shopping, because I haven't had your cookies in _way_ too long, and we need to make sure you still remember how to make them. Three or four batches ought to do it, wouldn't you say?"

Jack smiled faintly. "But what will we do with all the extras?"

"We could hold a bake sale," was the deadpan answer.

"Gabe! I'm not _selling_ my food!"

He shrugged. "Then we'll find a soup kitchen or give them out at the library or something. Helping others doesn't have to be grand, heroic gestures. It can be as simple as a chocolate chip cookie."

Jack thought about that for a long minute. "I like that," he said as the timer went off.

"And I like your biscuits."

"You _love_ my biscuits," Jack tossed over his shoulder as he grabbed potholders and opened the oven.

"Guilty as charged," Gabe admitted cheerfully.

Jack laughed.

 

* * *

 

They made four batches, Jack mixing and Gabriel in charge of getting the cookies on and off the trays, in and out of the oven. In the end, only three batches wound up paired off in a mountain of little ziplock bags. The fourth (with the exception of two or three) wound up inside Gabriel. The effect on their weekly pizza was unprecedented: Jack ate his half of the pizza, but Gabriel was full after two slices. He stared mournfully at the third one, sitting on his plate in solitary splendor.

"You don't _have_ to eat it, Gabe."

"Blasphemy," Gabriel shot back. "I'm not letting your pizza go to waste. Just...give me a minute to digest."

"I still have room," Jack said as Gabe took several deep breaths.

"But then you wouldn't have room for dessert," he pointed out. "And I really, really want to eat your pizza."

Jack blushed. Gabriel glanced at him, pizza slice halfway to his mouth, and laughed.

"I wasn't even going there! ...for once. But I'm glad I made such a good impression."

While Jack blushed harder, Gabriel ate, one hand on his stomach. When the last bite of crust was gone he belched and let out the groan that did _nothing_ to keep Jack's thoughts out of the gutter. Then he leaned over and laid his head in Jack's lap, shifting until he was sprawled comfortably with his feet over the arm.

"You okay, Gabe?" Jack asked softly.

"Aside from being a complete pig?" he answered dryly. "I should have let you eat it. But it tasted _so good,_ " he whined.

Jack took his hand and squeezed reassuringly. "There, there. You'll be fine."

Eyes closed, Gabriel sighed. "Thank you for putting up with me. I know I'm an asshole."

"Compared to my dad..."

"Morrison, no, don't you dare."

"...you're an angel."

Gabriel covered his face with his other hand, groaning at the old joke he probably wished Jack hadn't remembered while Jack laughed quietly. A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, Jack running his thumb over the knuckles of the hand he was holding.

"You know," Jack said quietly, "every time you do this it makes me want to pet your hair, only you don't have any."

"Good argument," Gabriel murmured. "I'll stop shaving it."

"I didn't-" _I didn't mean to criticize you_. "You don't have to..." _You don't have to change, I love you the way you are._

Gabriel opened his eyes and grinned up at Jack. "What, and miss an opportunity for you to put your hands all over me?" He laughed as Jack blushed, reaching up with his free hand to cup Jack's cheek. "You're cute."

Blushing harder, Jack turned his head and kissed Gabriel's palm, then went a little higher and kissed the underside of his fingers, then got the tip of one fingers between his lips and sucked gently. Gabriel's breath caught. When Jack glanced down at him, the sight of Gabriel Reyes blushing and looking like a starstruck teenage girl made him forget everything else. He drank that look in like it was the source of Life Everlasting.

"I don't regret eating as much of your food as I did," Gabriel said in a tone of awe, "but I regret not being able to kiss that look on your face right now."

Jack turned his head and kissed Gabriel's palm again. "I'll give you a rain check."

 

* * *

 

Jack's third week living with Gabriel started with them going around to the various places that provided food to those in need, dropping off several dozen cookies at each one. Gabriel introduced himself as "Michael King" (something that Jack struggled to not react to until they were back in the car and no one but Gabriel would hear him laugh) and when asked, said that Jack was his life-partner Daniel.

They visited the closest library last, at Jack's insistence, and gave the last cookies to the surprised and grateful librarians.

"I wintered in a small town," he told Gabriel as they drove back to the apartment. "They had a little library, run by a little old man who was too sick to do anything. I lived with him as a caretaker, but wound up tending to the library, too."

"How are you so _nice,_ Jack?" Gabriel demanded. "I swear, you don't have a mean bone in your body."

"I did," Jack protested. "Once." He swallowed a grin. "It was yours."

Gabriel nearly drove off the road.

"Don't do that to me," he complained, eyes firmly on the road and breathing heavily.

Jack grinned. "That's not what _I_ said."

"DAMN IT, JACK!"

The grin got wider. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to stop?"

Gabriel's hands tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "No," he uttered from between clenched teeth.

"Good...because that's what _you_ said, and that's how _I_ answered."

A strangled sound emerged from Gabriel's throat, his eyes distinctly wild.

"You have a rain check to cash," Jack added helpfully.

They drove in silence for a minute or two until they'd reached the apartment.

"Jack," Gabriel said hesitantly, his eyes still fixed straight ahead, his hands still clenched on the wheel. "You're sure you want this? I don't want to do anything you're not ready for."

He remembered having Gabe above him, the expression of wonder and devotion on his face, Jack's long-buried love reflected in his deep brown eyes. Or at least, he'd _thought_ that was what he was seeing, but-

_I lied. The answer was yes._

He shuddered away from the implications, years of reminding himself that he was _wrong_ making him terrified of being wrong again. Better to turn a blind eye.

"I want it," he said quietly. "Just not..."

"Not face-to-face?" Gabriel asked in an equally low voice.

"Yeah."

Gabriel leaned over and kissed Jack's shoulder. "Okay."

 

* * *

 

Jack lay in bed with Gabriel curled around him from behind, both of them loose and relaxed, their bodies flooded with afterglow. He tugged one of Gabriel's hands up to kiss lazily, heard an indistinct murmur from the face pressed against the back of his neck, and smiled. It was easy to pretend, like this, that they were truly lovers instead of friends with benefits. That they were husbands instead of work-husbands, that if Jack murmured 'I love you', he'd hear Gabe murmur it back.

It took him a minute to realize that the hand he wasn't holding was playing with his dog tags. Specifically _his_ dog tag, fingers caressing the _JACK MORRISON_ imprinted into the metal. He trembled slightly, and Gabriel shifted to press a kiss against his shoulder.

"I saw them while you were sleeping," Gabriel said softly. "I'm sorry I lied. I wasn't expecting to see my name, and I reacted badly."

Jack pulled Gabriel's other hand up to kiss again. "I forgive you."

A pause, and then Gabriel chucked. "Of course you do, because the only mean bone in your body is mine."

"I'm fine with that."

Gabriel froze. "Do I have any bones in my body that _aren't_ mean?" he asked.

"Plenty." Jack kissed his hand again. "I know you like to pretend that you don't, but we both know that if you _were_ a complete asshole, I never would have put up with your joking around, much less actively participated and encouraged it."

Slowly, Gabriel relaxed and chuckled. "I think Ana would have skinned me alive without you," he said.

The hand holding Gabriel's tightened. "Let's...not talk about her," Jack said in a voice that trembled.

Gabriel hugged him tighter. "It wasn't your fault."

"It still hurts," he whispered. The wrappings around that wound were coming loose; he tried to tighten them.

"Jack..."

Kisses on his shoulder, his neck. He was being rolled onto his back, kisses on his jaw, his temple, Gabriel's worried eyes looming over him.

"I'm having lunch delivered," Gabriel announced decisively. " _You_ are going to sit on the couch, bundled in blankets, and drink strawberry daiquiris until you have trouble thinking straight, and then I'm going to feed you. You're _still_ my friend, still my work husband, still _my soldier_ and I'm going to take fucking _care_ of you, got it?"

Jack wrapped his arms around Gabriel, pulling him down to bury his face in Gabriel's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered.

Gabriel kissed the top of his head. "I'm here for you, Jack. Always. And I owe you my life _how_ many times over?"

"I wasn't keeping track," Jack said, his voice muffled.

"Neither was I. Guess you're stuck with me until death do us part."

"I'm fine with that," Jack murmured before releasing his hold on Gabriel.

"Somehow, I thought you would be." He kissed Jack lightly. "Let's get you on the couch and get you liquored up. I'm thinking Indian for lunch."

 _That_ got his attention. "Lamb masala?"

Gabriel kissed him again. "Of course. Anything you want."

 _I want you_ , Jack thought. But he already had Gabriel in all the ways that _mattered_ , right? He'd said it himself: Jack was stuck with him until death did they part. Resolutely, he walled away the impulse to say _I love you_. Gabe already knew it anyway.

 

* * *

 

It was easy to settle into a routine with Gabriel. Their old patterns, jokes and dares and flirting, came back like riding a bicycle. The difference was that now, if one of them wound the other up too much, they did something about it. Jack finished regaining the level of physical fitness he'd lost during his time as a vagabond vigilante, and the neighborhood smiled and waved as "Michael" and "Daniel" ran past together. They baked and distributed cookies every week, although not on pizza day, and Gabriel kept his post-pizza reveling to that satisfied groan and then laying in Jack's lap while Jack stroked the peach fuzz now growing on his head.

Gabriel seemed to be deliberately avoiding things that might lead to emotional vulnerability, from simply not using the word 'love' for anything other than Jack's cooking to keeping his eyes shut during foreplay and picking positions where their eyes wouldn't meet. Jack thought often about returning some of the favors Gabriel had lavished on him, or how it would feel to be the one doing the penetrating, but any time he gave the go-ahead for Gabriel to do anything, Gabriel inevitably took care of himself at the same time.

It was a surprise when they visited the library and there were pink and red paper hearts everywhere. Jack had walled away all thoughts of holidays while he was wandering, and never really paid attention to the date once he and Gabriel had started living together, but now it was February and Valentine's Day loomed a short two weeks away.

"Jack?" Gabriel said gently as they drove home.

"It's February," he answered, wincing internally at how dead his voice sounded even to himself.

Gabriel shot him a sympathetic look. "Valentine's Day."

"Yeah."

He felt like they were both acutely aware of the dog tags under his shirt as the silence stretched.

"Do you want..." Gabriel let the question limp off, unfinished.

"I want to do something special for you," Jack said in a low but firm voice.

Gabriel reached over and took Jack's hand. "You do something special for me every day. Sometimes two or three times a day."

"Biscuits and pizza aren't special," Jack protested.

"I beg to differ."

"I mean it, Gabe. I-" The words _love you_ stuck in his throat. It was stupid. He should be able to say it. They both knew it. But he was afraid.

"I wouldn't say no to a fancy fucking chocolate cake," Gabriel said carefully.

Jack squeezed his hand while the unspoken _I love you_ melted and drained back down, leaving him free to speak again. "Thank you."

There was a pause before Gabriel squeezed gently and said, "Do you want me to...?"

"I don't want you to think you have to do anything for me. I don't want you to do anything you wouldn't have done anyway."

Another gentle squeeze, and then Gabriel released Jack's hand. "Okay. Nothing I wouldn't have done anyway. You have my word."

"Thanks, Gabe." Jack smiled a little tiredly at him. "In fact...when we get home, I'm going to thank you in a more... _concrete_ manner."

Gabriel's eyebrows arched, but he said nothing.

 

* * *

 

"On the bed," Jack said as the door closed behind them.

Again, Gabriel's eyebrows arched. "Yes, sir. And should I strip?"

"Down to your skin," Jack mock-ordered, grinning.

Gabriel grinned back. "Ooh, I like this already."

It took only moments for Gabriel to sprawl, naked, in the center of the king-sized bed.

"Now what?" he asked, but he didn't seem concerned with getting an answer because Jack was stripping, too.

Jack crawled onto the bed, straddling Gabriel's hips, and leaned down to tease his lips before initiating a long, sizzling kiss that had Gabriel's arms wrapped around his torso and his hips trying to grind up against Jack. When Jack pulled back, Gabe kept his eyes firmly shut, but he bit his lip briefly in a silent plea for more. Jack took a moment to admire that vulnerable expression before peppering his jaw and throat with kisses. Then it was back for round two, and Jack didn't let up until _he_ was starting to ache for release.

"On your side," he growled, moving his weight off of Gabriel.

Gabe rolled over, eyes still closed and biting his lip again, and Jack shifted until he was pressed against Gabriel's back. He draped one arm over Gabriel's side, hand wandering lower until he found what he was looking for, his touch eliciting a gasp and moan that shot through him like muted lightning.

"Jack..."

"Do you want me to stop?" Jack asked, his breath on Gabriel's neck making the other man shiver.

"No. Please."

Jack started stroking, his lips and sometimes teeth grazing the skin of Gabriel's neck. The quiet, pleading sounds Gabriel was making had Jack struggling to not just grind against his ass. He'd never handled another man's dick before, but he did all the things he liked and tried to do the things he liked Gabriel doing, and the sounds Gabriel was making reassured him that he was doing a decent enough job. Then Gabe's breathing turned ragged and Jack redoubled his efforts, forcing his own need aside as Gabriel came in his hand, scrambling away enough to give him room to roll onto his back so Jack could drink in the post-orgasm expression on his face.

It felt like he had been staring at Gabe's expression for eternity before he could no longer ignore his own arousal, and Jack flopped onto his back to take care of himself. It didn't take long.

"Jack," Gabe murmured as he rolled laboriously over to cuddle up to him. "Mmm. Thank you."

"That was _me_ thanking _you._ "

"Mmm. You're welcome."

Jack laughed quietly. "If you weren't in such a rush to take care of things yourself, I'd do that more often."

"Point taken."

They cuddled for a handful of minutes, Gabriel kissing Jack's shoulder and collarbone while Jack kissed his temple and the top of his head. _I love you_ crowded in the back of Jack's throat, but he swallowed the words.

 

* * *

 

Jack put Valentine's Day mostly out of his mind, with the exception of the fancy chocolate cake he'd be making. They spent a pleasant afternoon on the couch, looking at pictures and discussing recipes until Gabriel declared that he needed chocolate and came back with chocolate-covered strawberries, which they fed to each other. Cleaning up strawberry juice and chocolate crumbs necessitated removing clothes, and things got somewhat messier although neither of them minded.

Neither of them mentioned _why_ Jack was going to be baking a torted chocolate cake with three different chocolate creams, two icings, and chocolate shavings on top, and the cake itself more than accounted for any warm affection Gabriel was showing, so the next twelve days passed smoothly and pleasantly. Jack went to bed on the night of the twelfth basking in afterglow, curled up with his head on Gabriel's shoulder, and joyfully anticipating the baking he'd do in the morning. Final assembly would wait until the 14th, of course, but he could get everything _ready_ for assembly tomorrow. They'd done the shopping for it after lunch. He'd get the devil's food cake started first, then work on the creams while it was baking...or cooling...and then...

Thoughts filled with chocolate and the look of delight Gabriel was sure to wear, Jack drifted off.

 

* * *

 

The morning of the 13th, Jack woke instantly with all the excitement of Christmas Day. He levered himself carefully up, laying a light kiss on Gabe's temple, and slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. When he emerged, intending to start coffee and make breakfast as usual, he found a smiling Gabriel standing in his way, arms outstretched for a hug.

"Miss me?" he murmured teasingly into Gabriel's neck as they lingered in their traditional wake-up standing cuddle. Usually it was Jack seeking the comfort of Gabriel's arms before facing the day, with the other man being barely coherent until the coffee was ready.

"Got something I want to tell you," Gabe murmured back, his head on Jack's shoulder, "and I thought this would be the best way."

Jack firmly ignored the tiny voice crying out in fear that this would be something he didn't want to hear. "What is it?"

"Shh, it's a good thing," Gabriel soothed. "I just want to be sure we're both on the same page, because I don't think I managed to express it very well."

The tiny voice got a little louder. "Gabe?"

"You remember when I told you I lied, the answer was yes?"

The breath froze in Jack's throat and he couldn't answer.

"What I meant was...the answer is _still_ yes. The answer has _always_ been yes. I love you, Jack."

_How long-_

That was as far as Jack got before the words sank in and ripped the bandages off the widest, deepest wound he'd been holding shut since he was eighteen and firmly telling himself that he _couldn't_ be in love with his CO. His knees gave out and he sagged, clinging to Gabriel, feeling the strong arms around him tighten, preventing him from just collapsing to weep on the floor because he was, he was crying the way he had never been allowed to after his mother died, the way he hadn't allowed himself to after hearing the news that his dad had finally gotten himself killed and took little Maddie with him, crying out half a lifetime of painful longing for the cocky, Hispanic Adonis who was always by his side but seemingly forever out of his reach.

Dimly, he was aware of Gabriel half-lifting, half-dragging him onto the bed - _their_ bed - and he pulled his arms and legs in, trying to shrink into as tight a ball as he could manage as if that would hold him together as he cried out what seemed to be everything inside him. His throat burned, his eyes ached, and a distant corner of his mind was mildly surprised he wasn't vomiting from the sheer force of repressed emotions being freed and dispelled at last.

He coughed, drew in a shuddering breath, and realized that his head was in Gabriel's lap, a hand stroking his hair while the other was clutched tightly in one of Jack's, his arms wrapped around one of Gabriel's crossed legs while Gabriel's voice murmured soothing reassurance and apology.

_I love you, Jack._

It couldn't be true. _Couldn't_. Jack never got anything he really wanted, never got to keep anyone he loved. But Gabe had said it: the answer had always been yes, was _still_ yes. He hadn't been wrong. He _had_ seen love in Gabriel's eyes the night they spent together, in countless moments in all the years after that. Gabriel loved him. Gabriel _loved_ him.

 _I'm going to marry you for your pizza. I love you for your biscuits._ A thousand declarations of love, a thousand proposals buried under lighthearted joking. _Morrison! Get over here, give me your hand. There, you gave me your hand, we're married now_.

How long...how long was _always?_

 _Souvenir from our first date,_ Gabe said when anyone asked him about the moose skull. The moose that had charged their campsite on the first wilderness survival mission the military had sent them on. Gabriel had killed it, Jack had butchered it, and all of them had feasted on it the entire rest of the two weeks. That long? How could he have been so blind?

But then...Gabriel hadn't expected to see his name on Jack's dog tags. They were _both_ blind. And he couldn't, wouldn't blame Gabriel for not saying anything until now, not when he'd been so reticent on the subject himself. But now...now...

Gabriel _loved_ him.

Jack exhaled the last crumbs of lingering heartbreak and slipped into gentle sleep with _I love you, Jack_ in his ears.

 

* * *

 

"Jack?" Gabriel said softly, concern in his voice.

He groaned. His head felt tight, his throat hurt, and his eyes and nose were gummy and crusted. What-

 _Gabriel loved him_.

The breath he was in the process of sucking in nearly choked him.

"Jack!"

"Gabe..." Ugh, his voice sounded...well, as terrible as he felt.

"Are you okay? Can I help?"

He was still sprawled in Gabriel's lap, one hand held in Gabriel's. Gingerly, he straightened stiff fingers. "Tissue," he said in a pathetic growl.

Gabriel's lap shifted oddly as the man leaned back and stretched, but then he had a tissue pressed against his fingers. Carefully, he cleaned the gummy residue out of his eyes before wadding the tissue up and blowing his nose. Gabriel offered him a second tissue, and he accepted it gratefully to clean the crust off his nostrils.

"Are you okay?" Gabriel asked again, gently.

"Head hurts."

"I'm not surprised. You want hot, or cold or your throat?"

"Cold. Thank you."

Gingerly, Jack levered himself up enough for Gabe to scoot out from under him. Then he lay back down and felt lips on his temple.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Jack chuckled weakly.

Gabriel returned a minute later with a glass of cold water and a painkiller. Jack sat up and swallowed the pill, sipped the water, and then leaned against Gabe as he sat beside him on the bed. The arm around his shoulders wasn't a surprise.

"I'm sorry, Jack."

"Sorry for what?" Jack sighed.

"Sorry I let you think..." Gabriel paused and pressed a kiss to the top of Jack's head. "Sorry I didn't man up and tell you how I felt. _Before_ everything went to hell."

Jack closed his eyes. "I saw you die, Gabe. It almost killed me. I'm not sure I would have survived if I'd known that you..." His throat closed on the words.

"That I love you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I'm such an asshole, Jack. I don't know how you put up with me."

Jack smiled. "Because I love you."

The words vibrated in his raw throat. Beside him, Gabriel sucked in a sharp breath.

"Oh, Jack. Does that feel as good to say as it does to hear?"

"Probably," he answered, feeling a warmth in his chest that he'd only felt faint echoes of in the past. "Hard to say, though, because you said it first."

"I wanted to tell you, Jack, so many times. But I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't know if you would forgive me for lying to you. So I stayed quiet and hurt you anyway."

Jack opened his eyes and lifted his head to smile at Gabriel. "I forgive you."

Gabriel smiled back. "Because the only mean bone in your body is mine."

Suddenly, Jack realized that Gabe had been hinting at something, and he'd been too dense to get it.

"Gabe," he said hesitantly. "Do you...want _another_ nice bone in your body?"

The look of guarded hope that got made him swallow a flutter of nervous excitement.

"Not right now," he added hurriedly. "We both need food. But...in general."

Gabe leaned forward and kissed Jack lightly. "Food first. Then we talk. I want to tell you all about the plans I have for tomorrow." At Jack's expression of dubious surprise, he grinned broadly. "Nothing I wouldn't have done anyway," he teased.

That got Jack grinning. "You sneaky bastard."

"Sneaky bastard who _loves_ you," Gabriel corrected.

"You only love me for my biscuits," teased Jack.

"Lies. There's also your cookies, your ravioli, your pizza, and that cake you're making for me." He hesitated. "Can I go back to threatening to marry you for your pizza?"

It was Jack's turn to lean in for a gentle kiss. "As long as you keep laying in my lap."

"Good. Because I love you, and I love your pizza." Gabriel gave him a brief, guilty look. "Jack...you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I love you, and I don't want to hurt you. If I'm stepping on your emotional feet, tell me. Okay?"

Jack leaned down to put the water glass on the floor and then stood, pulling Gabriel into a tight hug. "I promise," he murmured. "How do cinnamon rolls sound for breakfast?"

Gabriel laughed shakily. " _God_ I love you."


	7. Blossoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turnabout is fair play, right?

The day after Valentine's Day, Jack woke up _nearly_ as happy as he'd been when he went to sleep. The warm, tentative affection of the 13th had been more than enough to make him content with the way his life had turned out, but yesterday...

Jack had been awakened by Gabriel kissing him - slowly, tenderly - and upon seeing Jack's eyes flutter open, he'd pulled away with the biggest, happiest smile Jack had ever seen on his face and said, _Good morning, sunshine. Welcome to the first day of the rest of our lives_ and Jack had pulled him back down for more kissing. _Good morning, love,_ he'd said shyly when they broke apart, and when Gabriel blushed, he didn't think either of them would _ever_ stop smiling.

He rolled over, admiring Gabriel's sleeping face before leaning in to leave a trail of gentle kisses up his jaw. Gabriel grumbled sleepily at him.

"Morning, love," Jack murmured. "What would you like for breakfast?"

Gabe froze, eyes opening slowly as if he couldn't really believe that yesterday had happened. Then he smiled shyly. "Biscuits and ham and cheesy eggs and all-the-sins cake."

"It's _seven_ sins cake," Jack corrected with a light kiss.

"It's the best cake ever and thank you for not letting me eat it all yesterday so I can enjoy it again today."

Jack chuckled. "You're adorable," he said, just because he _could_.

Gabriel pulled the blanket up over his head. "Am not."

"Well, I adore you, so that makes you adorable."

"You're a sap, Jack."

Jack grinned. "But you love me."

The blanket came back down and Gabriel leaned over for a longer kiss. "Yes, I do."

Breakfast was delayed.

 

* * *

 

The usual rhythm of preparing breakfast was thrown off by coffee-flavored kisses and gentle touches, hugs from behind that turned into hugs facing each other and tender murmurs of 'I love you' and 'I love you, too'. Neither of them minded.

"Remember that thing that was eating at me that I never told you about?" Jack asked as he spread jam on his biscuits.

"I remember you not telling me what it was," Gabriel teased back.

"I couldn't exactly go to my CO for help on the subject of having feelings for my CO." Jack looked at Gabriel, wanting to see the expression of stunned delight and not being disappointed.

Gabriel shook his head. "Yeah. One or both of us would have gotten kicked out for sure because I don't think I would have been able to resist kissing you." He picked up his fork, thought better of it, and put it back down. "Jack...I'm sorry I led you on."

Panic nearly closed Jack's throat. "Led..."

"Not like- remember the time I kissed you?" Gabriel nodded as understanding calmed Jack down. "Yeah. That wasn't me pranking you. That was me getting lost in how much I wanted to kiss you, and then forcing myself to walk away, laughing like it _had_ been a prank, because I knew I was being a dick but I was terrified of what you would do if I confessed that I'd lied."

Jack put his fork down as well. "It _did_ hurt," he admitted reluctantly. "I took you at your word and told myself I was wrong, that I hadn't seen what I'd thought I had."

Gabriel moved his chair closer, close enough for Jack to lean on him, which he did. "God, Jack, I'm sorry. I'm an asshole, making you suffer because I couldn't man up. I'm no good at this 'feelings' crap."

"You don't have to be," Jack said quietly, reveling in Gabriel's arm around him. "Everyone has something they're not good at."

The arm tightened around him. "Still, you deserve better."

Every date - blind or otherwise - Gabriel had set him up with over the years, since the day he'd leaned against the doorframe to Jack's office and casually asked if he was into men only, or if he was flexible, flashed before Jack's eyes. Every comment that had started with 'you deserve...' clamored in his ears, making him sit up and scowl.

"Better than the man who's been my best friend for my entire adult life?" he asked sharply. Gabriel blinked in surprise, his mouth opened, but nothing came out. Had it been coincidence that those dates had only started after Gabriel said no when he meant yes? Probably not. "You know you can't find anyone better for me," Jack continued more gently. "Even if you did find someone your ego admitted was better, you'd sabotage it somehow. Keep us from meeting, trip him, anything to keep it from working. You don't _want_ me with anyone 'better'. And that's fine with me," he said after a brief pause. "Spares me the trouble of turning them gently down."

Gabriel shook his head, laughing weakly.

Jack smiled. "So, since neither of us wants to see me with anyone that's not you, you wanna knock it off with the 'you deserve better' bullshit?"

"Consider it done," Gabriel said loftily.

"Thanks," Jack said, resting his head on Gabriel's shoulder again. He got a kiss on the temple.

"I'm still a dick who led you on, " he murmured, "but I'll make it up to you."

"You already are," Jack murmured back.

"You're too easy on me, Jack."

Jack smiled into Gabriel's shoulder. "It's easy to forgive when you've settled for the best, which I have."

Gabriel laughed. "Okay, I give up. You win. Your breakfast's getting cold. Either sit up and eat it, or I'll have to feed it to you."

"Fine," Jack sighed as he sat up. "But only because I can't feed _you_ if you're feeding _me_."

"After breakfast," Gabriel said in a mock-threat as he moved his chair back over, "you're in for it."

Jack smirked. "Promise?"

"Oh, I _promise_."

 

* * *

 

"I really am going to marry you for your pizza," Gabe said lazily, head in Jack's lap, eyes closed as Jack ran fingers through his short hair.

Jack grinned. "Only for my pizza? The biscuits will get jealous."

Gabriel laughed.

"I missed that," Jack said quietly. "I broke our pattern. I'm sorry."

Eyes still closed, Gabriel reached up and laid a finger on Jack's lips. "I pushed too fast and made you panic. You panicked because I was an asshole and made you second-guess yourself. It's _my_ fault, Jack."

He didn't have an argument to counter that, but he didn't want to agree, either. Jack kissed the fingers against his lips until Gabriel let them fall again.

"Angela keeps asking me about protecting her first-responders," Gabriel sighed. "I'm _this close_ to telling her to fuck off in those words exactly."

"Why is she..." Jack trailed off, frowning.

"She keeps needling me to bring you back in for an evaluation."

"But she cleared me after the first week."

"A _psychological_ evaluation," Gabriel clarified unhappily, looking apologetically up at Jack.

Jack's fingers slowed to a stop. "And you don't think I need one?"

"I think I'm more qualified than any over-educated hack when it comes to judging how healthy your head is. And that's if you'd even talk to one in the first place. I may not have six years of education," he said gently, "but I've been watching over you since you were a dead-eyed recruit and I think I'm pretty okay at keeping you stable."

He thought of some psychologist with no direct authority over him asking about his childhood, and shuddered. "So what have you been telling her?"

"That you're fine. She tried to feed me some bullshit about overcoming trauma and I told her she didn't know _jack_ about you."

"Gabe...you didn't..."

"Of course I did," Gabriel said smugly. "Come on, you expect me to pass up an opportunity to say _you don't know jack about_ _Jack?_ "

Jack laughed.

"Seriously though, Jack, don't worry about it. You're as stable and healthy as I've ever seen you. And that makes me happy," he added in a soft voice, bringing his hand back up to cup Jack's cheek.

"I do like making you happy," Jack murmured, kissing Gabriel's palm.

"I like _seeing_ you happy," Gabriel said.

"And you don't think doing something constructive with my life again will make me happy?"

Gabriel sat up and turned to face Jack. "Think about it," he said. "Really think about it. Going into war zones. Protecting medics. Shooting enemy combatants with sleep darts. Field rations. Chain of command. Being ordered to retreat and leave the healthy survivors to starve or die from a lack of clean water."

Jack thought about it, and _felt_ himself start to wall pieces of himself away. Shuddering, he turned and leaned into Gabriel's ready embrace, head on Gabriel's chest and legs pulled up tight. The arms around him and lips on the top of his head were very comforting.

"No," Gabe said dryly. "I _don't_ think it will make you happy. I think you've been conditioned to think you have to spend your life being _useful_ in some way to someone else, only your dad was an asswipe and taught you that _useful_ meant you have to be a slave and you can't ever do anything for yourself."

He opened his mouth to protest, but there were no words. Gabriel was right.

"It's been what, a month and a half?" Gabriel murmured. "How do you feel? Are you bored or unfulfilled in any way? Would you be happy spending the rest of your life doing what you've been doing over the past few weeks?"

Jack thought about that. The anxious walls came down, and he relaxed into Gabriel's embrace. "I'd like to get more involved with the community," he said hesitantly. "Maybe read to kids at the library or work with troubled teens or something. Be the kind of person I wished I'd had in my life, growing up. But more than that...no. You're right."

Gabriel kissed his hair. "Then what's bothering you, sunshine?"

The nickname made him squirm slightly in delight, and then the rest of the question registered and he quieted again. "We did our part, right?" he asked hesitantly. "We served our country and the world. We deserve some time to ourselves to just relax, don't we?"

"Absolutely."

"It's been almost forty years, but I finally have you and..." Jack swallowed. "You're the most important thing in my life and I want to be able to finally treat you like it. I know I never exactly ignored you, but you've always been there for me and I want to make sure you get as much of my attention as you deserve, with no distractions."

The arms around him went limp.

Alarmed, Jack sat up and saw Gabriel staring, open-mouthed. Then he was being kissed in a delightfully insistent way and he allowed Gabriel to push him slowly onto his back. One hand groped for the front of Gabriel's pants; the other went for the small bottle he'd stashed just under the couch a week or two back. Neither of them were really keen on stopping for anything once they'd gotten started, and Gabriel tended to default to oral if there was no lube available. That wouldn't be so bad, but he also tended to stroke himself off while tending to Jack, too worked up or too impatient to wait and let Jack tend to him in turn.

"Does this mean you don't mind living with a retired old man?" Jack teased as Gabriel broke the kiss to free him from his pants.

"Shut up. I love you," he added as Jack offered him the bottle.

"I love you, too," Jack said, getting into a more comfortable position.

Then there was no more talking.

 

* * *

 

Being retired took surprisingly little getting used to. It was the same lifestyle he'd been living with Gabriel, only without the nagging feeling that he should be _doing something_. He _was_ doing something - he was lavishing attention on his lover, and enjoying every second of it. In a way, it was like coming home again: taking care of someone he loved. Only he didn't have to worry about schoolwork, paperwork, his father's questionable temper and even more questionable commentary, or his reputation. Also, Gabriel did at least half of the cleaning. So it was all the things he'd loved, _plus_ time to relax or pursue his own interests.

Basically, it was heaven.

Gabriel made a point of taking him out to eat at least once a week, always to fancy places. ("Nothing less could compete with your cooking," he'd said as he'd helped Jack out of the car, kissing his hand and then his lips.) Jack wondered uneasily about their finances, but the one time he brought it up, Gabriel told him firmly to not worry about it, so he didn't. Whether it was misappropriated Overwatch funds, skillful manipulation of the stock market, or something more sinister...Gabriel had given everything else up to play happy husbands with Jack, so Jack would continue to trust him.

With the weather getting warmer, they sometimes packed a picnic lunch and spent time in the park, joking about camping and moose, going hunting and staying at a little cabin in the woods, picking berries and skinny-dipping. Jack mentioned places that would let you pick your own strawberries, and how he would come back with baskets loaded as full and heavy as he could and just feast on them for days; Gabriel promised that once strawberry season started, they'd go and pick strawberries together. (Gabriel also joked about _buying_ a little cabin in the woods somewhere, solar power and well water and a little garden where Jack could plant strawberries, but as much as Jack liked the idea, he was fairly certain it was only a joke.)

The library was happy to have "Michael" and "Daniel" read to the children sometimes, particularly since "Daniel" was equally comfortable  with French and Italian. Jack gave his contact information to a few places that provided hot meals to the needy, and when they were short-handed, he came in to cook with Gabriel as his assistant. Once, someone suggested he work for them full-time or open a restaurant. "I'm retired," he answered with an apologetic smile. "I don't mind helping, but my days of working are behind me."

"I'm proud of you," Gabriel said as they drove home - and it made Jack feel warm inside that their apartment _was_ home. "You actually said _no_ to a request for your time."

Jack blushed. "It's not _my_ time," he protested. "I retired to be with you. My time is _your_ time. Anything that takes time away from being with you..."

Gabriel pulled abruptly over into the nearest open parking spot and parked the car.

"Gabe?"

"I need to kiss you _right now,_ " he answered, leaning over to do just that. "You're a fucking sap, Morrison," he breathed into Jack's mouth. "But _god_ I love you."

"Well, good," Jack breathed back, his fingers in Gabriel's hair. "Because I love _you_ and it would be awkward if I took you up on one of your proposals only to find out you hadn't meant it after all."

"I don't make offers I'm not prepared to follow through on," Gabriel replied loftily, his lips on Jack's neck.

That stole Jack's breath as he remembered the joking offer to buy a cabin, and then again as it sank in that Gabriel _wanted_ to marry him, and that gave him the strength to grin and say, "I knew that applied to offers of violence. I didn't know it applied to _everything_."

"Now you know." Gabriel sat back, flushed but pleased. "Forget dinner. We're going out someplace _fancy_ tonight."

Jack leaned in for one last light kiss. "Whatever you say, love."

 

* * *

 

The first time the personalized commercials hawked Bisquick at Jack, he shouted in indignation and turned the TV off to glare at it while Gabriel laughed until he couldn't breathe. When the Bisquick commercials followed him to his phone, he had been double-checking a recipe and left it in the freezer while he stalked off to sulk in the bathroom until he'd calmed down. He _knew_ it wasn't a glitch in the algorithm, it was because Gabriel had been altering his data habits specifically towards this end.

A lifetime of habit was too hard to break, especially when love was on the line. Jack brushed off Gabriel's wary concern and steeled himself to ignore the Bisquick haunting him digitally. Although he couldn't bring himself to _say_ that the commercials were stepping on his metaphoric foot, Gabriel caught on that he was unhappy and that night he made a very earnest apology involving a bouquet of chocolate-covered strawberries and the creative use of his tongue. Jack forgave him, but April Fool's was coming up and he knew just what prank to play on Gabriel.

 

* * *

 

Jack smirked as he took the tray of biscuits out of the oven, turned it to low, slid half of them into a bowl, covered the bowl with a towel, and quickly hid the _real_ biscuits in the oven again. The other half, abominations made with Bisquick (and that had almost physically _hurt_ to do), were treated like Jack's normal biscuits. He split two and spread them with butter, putting them on Gabe's plate just as he stumbled blindly out. Half a mug of coffee later, the rest of breakfast was done and they sat down to eat.

He was anticipating a reaction as amusing as his had been - indignant anger, maybe some ranting - and he filled his mouth with eggs and ham to hide his smile. A little bit of laughing at Gabe, an apologetic kiss or two, and he'd pull out the _real_ biscuits while they laughed at Jack's little prank. Gabriel picked up a biscuit half.

Took a bite.

Chewed once, twice, and a look of dawning horror spread across his face as he realized the abomination he'd put in his mouth.

Jack was prepared to laugh, but then tears formed in Gabriel's eyes and he looked like he was struggling to chew and swallow a mouthful of pure grief. Amusement turned to concern and remorse, and Jack nearly choked in his rush to free his mouth.

"Gabe!" he cried out as his work husband _lifted the Bisquick monstrosity to his mouth to take another bite_. "No, no-no-no-" Jack launched himself out of his seat so fast that it clattered to the floor, grabbing Gabriel's wrist and prying the crumbly thing out of his hand. "You don't have to- _I made real ones!_ I'm sorry, please don't-"

Too late; tears trailed down Gabriel's cheeks as the first shaky breath turned into a sob. Jack hugged Gabriel's head to his chest, stroking his hair and feeling like the biggest douchebag in history because he'd known his work husband for nearly four decades and _never_ seen him cry, not even when they lost good men, not even when Jack came back from rescuing hostages and Ana wasn't with him.

"I'm sorry," Jack babbled frantically. "I'm sorry, please don't cry. I love you. It was just a prank, I'd never actually make you eat that." Gabriel was clinging to him, arms tight around Jack's waist as he cried. "Oh god, Gabe, I'm sorry..."

"...I'm so sorry..."

Jack's heart broke. "No, Gabe, it was my fault, why are you apologizing?"

He didn't get an answer; Gabriel was crying too hard. Jack went down on one knee, forcing Gabriel to transfer his hold from waist to neck, and picked his work husband up bridal-style to carry him to the couch. Once they were both sitting Jack cuddled Gabriel close, his head on Jack's chest so he could kiss Gabriel's hair and murmur apologies and reassurance.

"I'm sorry, Gabe. It was just supposed to be a dumb prank, ha ha I got you, revenge for the Bisquick ads. If you like Bisquick so much why don't I make some for you, you know? But I made you cry and I never intended to hurt you. I'm the worst work husband ever. I'm so sorry, Gabe. I'll never do it again, I swear. I love you."

The worst of the crying seemed to be over; Gabriel shifted to lay his head on Jack's shoulder. Between shaky breaths and heartbreaking sounds he choked out, "I'm sorry that I made you take the love away and fucked this up again."

As much as that felt like a dagger in Jack's heart, it was equally confusing. "What?"

Gabriel drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "Your biscuits are made of love and your pizza is pure bliss and I'm an asshole who doesn't deserve any of it."

_The look of awe on Gabriel's face that first morning as he bit into a hot biscuit. Confusion as he stood and crossed the campsite to Jack, took Jack's head in both hands, and licked his forehead. "There, I licked you, you're mine now."_

If his biscuits were made of love, does that mean he'd loved Jack since that first wilderness mission?

If his biscuits were love, did Bisquick mean he thought Jack-

"Gabe, no! I still love you," he soothed, trying to fight back tears of his own. "I still love you. I made real ones, you weren't supposed to actually _eat_ that shit. I was angry about the ads. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

The only response he got was Gabriel clinging tighter, crying harder, but with relief this time. Jack held him close, kissing his head and rubbing his back. He was crying, too, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I'm so sorry, love. This is my fault. I should have known better. This is what happens when I act on anger; this is why I don't. This is what happens when I dare object to something instead of just accepting it - I end up hurting someone I love. I'm sorry. I won't do it anymore. You can step on my feet as much as you want."

"Jack, no." Gabriel lifted his head to give Jack a look of teary remorse. "I don't want to hurt you. I was an asshole with the ads, and now I know that made you angry and I won't joke about Bisquick anymore. I was the asshole. It's _my_ fault. I pushed you to do it." He sniffled, expression shifting to vulnerable pleading. "You made real ones?"

"Of _course_ I made real ones," Jack protested. Then it was his turn to give a vulnerable look. "You really think my cooking is that good?"

"Your cooking is _perfection_ ," Gabe insisted. "Your cooking could have stopped the first and second world wars."

Jack blushed. Gabriel gave him a fond smile and kissed him slowly, tenderly, apology and forgiveness all in one. Jack returned the kiss, apology and forgiveness of his own.

"Go back to bed, love," he breathed when the kiss ended. "Get comfortable. I'll bring the biscuits to you. Breakfast in bed."

"You don't have to-"

Jack growled and interrupted the protest with a kiss. "Shut up, Reyes, I _want_ to. I want to fuss over you, so shut up and enjoy it."

Gabriel gave him a look of guarded hope and surrender, and it finally clicked that he _liked_ Jack being In Charge, only he couldn't bring himself to ask for it.

_I'm your CO, you're supposed to be able to lean on me._

He was the only one Jack could lean on. But who did _Gabriel_ have to lean on? No one but Jack, and Jack was too thick-headed to see what his work husband needed.

He took Gabriel's head between his hands and kissed him with as much authority as he could manage. A small sound, high and pleading, slipped out of Gabe's throat and made Jack's heart beat faster with the knowledge that he was right.

"Go back to bed, love," he repeated in a gentle command. "Get comfortable. I'll be there in a minute."

Jerkily, Gabriel nodded and stumbled out of the room. Jack went to the kitchen, retrieved the _real_ biscuits from the oven, and split four. Two got spread with butter and strawberry jam; he ate those while spreading the other two with butter and then drizzling honey on each half. With that treat on a plate, he shucked off his pajama top and followed Gabriel into the bedroom.

He found his work husband leaning against a pile composed of both pillows and the blanket, looking like an ageless and handsome - but vulnerable - god lounging on a divan. Those deep brown eyes, still wide, roved over the uncovered planes of Jack's chest in a manner somehow greedy and hesitant at the same time. Jack crawled carefully across the surface of the bed to join Gabriel in leaning against the cushy pile, distracting him with a kiss before breaking it to offer him a biscuit half to bite.

Gabriel's expression as he chewed and swallowed was pure bliss.

Bite by bite, lavishing kisses on every exposed inch of Gabriel's skin, Jack fed his work husband and reveled in the combination of adoration and arousal his actions were eliciting. When the biscuits were gone, he straddled Gabriel and kissed him fiercely, being as physically dominating as he could. They were both groaning when Jack broke the kiss and grabbed for the waistband of Gabriel's pajama bottoms. He took a moment to admire the scarred perfection of Gabriel's body before crouching over his legs and lowering his head to kiss a line up one thigh.

Hands fisted on the sheet, Gabriel moaned in anticipation as Jack reached his goal and continued kissing up the side of Gabriel's shaft. This wasn't the first time he'd gone down on Gabe, but Jack was still uncertain enough that initiating something like this was a rare occurrence. _That_ was going to change, Jack thought with a smirk as he took Gabriel into his mouth. He wasn't the only one who had waited decades for their relationship to reach this point, and he was going to make up for lost time by spoiling the _fuck_ out of his work husband.

Maybe... The twelfth was coming up. Maybe he could take the _work_ out of that designation. That thought made him hum around Gabriel's shaft, pleased with the timing of things. Gabriel was murmuring a stream of babble - _oh, Jack, oh, Jack, yes, yes, oh god Jack_ \- and Jack kept going until the words dried up and Gabriel came in his mouth.

He had a limited window, he thought muzzily through his own now-painful arousal. As he swallowed, he threw himself towards the bedside table and pulled out the bottle of lube. His pajama bottoms got tossed to the floor with Gabe's, and he grabbed the ass pillow from the shelf under the table. Gabriel was still out of it enough that Jack had the pillow under his ass and was lubed up before his eyes fluttered open to focus on Jack in confusion.

"If you _don't_ want a nice bone in your body," Jack teased, positioning himself for entry, "then say _Iron Man is sexier_."

"Team Cap for life," Gabriel breathed, eyes wide.

Jack pushed slowly, gently, teasing them both and trying not to orgasm as Gabriel gasped and flung his head back as though inviting Jack to kiss the exposed skin of his neck. Naturally, Jack did just that, still easing his way slowly in and holding onto is self-control with both metaphoric hands. Gabriel wrapped his arms around Jack, urging him closer, kissing haphazardly at whatever was in reach.

"How am I doing?" Jack murmured.

Gabriel groaned. "More," he panted. "Harder."

"If I go harder, I won't be able to hold it," Jack warned him.

"I don't care. Take me with you. Oh, god, Jack!"

That was the last straw; Jack began thrusting wildly, praying he'd set Gabe off before his orgasm caught him and then it was over - he buried himself as deep as he could, trembling as bliss crashed over him and his arms gave out, feeling Gabriel holding him tight as he laid his head on his lover's shoulder and sighed in contented relief.

It felt like a small eternity before Jack could bring himself to move, even just enough to cuddle up next to his husband - _future_ husband - instead of sprawling on top of him.

"I popped your cherry," he murmured, kissing Gabe's shoulder.

"Mmmmm. Yes, you did."

"We never finished breakfast."

"We had biscuits. That's the important part."

Jack chuckled, but he could feel himself blushing at the same time. "Are they really that good?"

A warm, wet swipe across his forehead, followed by Gabriel's chuckle, answered that. "I licked you. You're mine."

"Yes," Jack agreed, "I am."

"I really am going to marry you for your pizza, you know."

"Not if I marry you first."

Gabriel froze. Jack looked up and saw him wearing an expression similar to the guarded hope he'd seen before, only less guarded and more disbelieving. He _wanted_ Jack to ask. He didn't just want to marry Jack, he wanted _Jack_ to ask. Well, he could work with that. It wasn't like he didn't have a plan, but he wanted it to be as complete a surprise as possible.

Smiling, Jack lifted his head and kissed the look off of Gabriel's face.

 

* * *

 

"I have a box," Jack announced to the conservatively professional woman behind the desk.

Without a word, she presented him with a biometric scanner. He pressed his thumb to it; the frame lit up green.

"Please wait in room three," she said in an impersonally polite tone. "We will bring the box to you momentarily."

Jack nodded and turned away, eyes roving over the doors until he located the correct private room. It was warmly finished, albeit sparsely: a single table topped with polished marble and a single chair, wood and red upholstery. He sat and waited. A minute or two later, a blank-faced man in a crisp uniform entered through the opposite door. The stainless steel safe-deposit box was held carefully in white-gloved hands, and he laid it on the table before bowing to Jack and leaving the way he'd come.

Once he was alone again, Jack stood and pressed his thumb to the biometric lock on the box. The frame lit up green, and the top popped open. He skimmed the contents - the brightly-colored kid's coin purse that held little Maddie's baby teeth, the jewelry box with the locket from his mother, the moose hoof - before reaching out with one trembling hand and picking up the red plaid cloth folded into a small bundle. Slowly, reverently, he unfolded it until its precious contents glittered in the artificial light. Then, equally reverently, he folded the cloth back up and slid the bundle into his pocket.

With one last look at his most prized possessions, Jack pressed the lid back into place on the box and watched the lock turn red and then go dark. He left the private room, nodding to the woman behind the desk, and walked out without a word.

 

* * *

 

Of course, _getting_ the package was the easy part. What kept Jack distracted over the next few days was figuring out how to _give_ it. The traditional approach - down on one knee in a fancy or romantic venue - wasn't really his style _or_ Gabriel's. The oh-ha-ha-how-did-that-get-there sly proposal was equally out. He tried to think of something witty to say while simply presenting it, but he kept coming back to "Congratulations, you've won a lifetime supply of pizza!" and that really wasn't the sort of tone he wanted to take.

He carried the bundle with him everywhere, in case inspiration struck, but nothing did - and time was running out.

"Jack," Gabriel said gently, knocking him back to the present.

The present was standing in the living room, staring off into space with his hand in his pocket and his future husband giving him a concerned look.

"Root beer float?" Gabe asked hesitantly.

He hadn't needed that ritual in weeks and he didn't need it now. But when he opened his mouth, his brain threw its metaphoric hands in the air and left him gaping like an idiot, unable to even think of two words much less string them together. _Very_ concerned now, Gabriel held his arms out, inviting Jack to step into a hug.

Jack thrust the cloth bundle at him instead.

Eyebrows raised, Gabriel accepted it and slowly unwrapped the cloth while Jack felt like his heart was going to climb up his throat and choke him. When the last fold of cloth fell away, revealing two shiny dog tags on a chain, Gabriel looked at Jack as if asking silently if he was serious. Nervously, Jack nodded.

"Hell. Yes." Each word was enunciated, emphasized, as if Gabriel knew that his future husband was consumed by second-guessing himself.

All of Jack's anxiety evaporated in a rush of euphoria and he found himself hugging and being hugged so tightly that it was a wonder either of them could breathe, lips pressed frantically to any exposed skin they could get to, and if there were tears, neither of them was going to mention it.

"You _kept_ them," Gabriel murmured as their mutual giddiness wound down to more gentle cuddling.

"Of _course_ I did," Jack murmured back. "You think I'd throw them out, particularly when I was wearing the other half?"

Gabriel stepped back and held the chain out to Jack. "Would you do the honors?" he asked with something trying to be a smirk but looking more like a shy smile.

Jack smiled back. "Of course."

He draped the chain carefully over Gabriel's head, kissing the back of his neck and sliding his arms around in a hug. One hand played with the tags now resting against Gabe's chest the way Gabriel had played with his so many times.

A shaky laugh, and Gabriel said, "So...should we keep our own names, or do you want to hyphenate?"

"I'm still working on the fact that _someone_ will know I'm alive," Jack answered dryly. "How fast can we get the documentation together?"

Gabriel coughed.

"...you didn't."

"I didn't want to waste any time," he said with a complete lack of shame, turning in Jack's embrace to wrap his arms around his shoulders and smirk. "We can get married today, if you want to."

Jack kissed the tip of Gabriel's nose. "How about on the twelfth, I _actually_ give you my hand?"

"Done. And how about we get Indian and something to drink and discuss our honeymoon options tonight?"

"I'd love to," Jack said softly. "I love _you_."

"I love you too, Jack."

They kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue to be posted on the 28th, and then roughly 10k each of two infodumps will go up on the 29th and 30th. Like I said in the beginning, there's a LOT of history between these two and only a fraction made it into the story, so if you want to hear about their pre-fall shenanigans, you won't want to miss the infodumps!


	8. I do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've both been waiting a very long time for this.

Jack opened his mouth to say 'I do', but Gabriel murmured, "Wait."

While Jack watched in momentary confusion, Gabriel pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket and handed it to the officiant to hold while he opened it. The two gold rings inside took Jack's breath away. Lightheaded, he held out his hand and let Gabe slide a ring onto his finger. Hands shaking, he slid the other one onto his future husband's finger in turn.

"I do," he breathed.

Gabriel's face lit up. "I do," he said in a tone of complete awe, like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment but now that it had arrived, he couldn't believe it was really happening.

The officiant grinned. "And now," he announced, "you are married!"

Jack smiled at his husband. _"Te amo, Gabriel,"_   he said, using the Spanish inflection of the name. They'd been holding hands, which turned out to be fortuitous because Gabriel swayed and would have collapsed if Jack hadn't tugged him and turned the motion into sweeping his husband - his _husband!_ \- off his feet. "You're adorable, _amorcito_."

Then he lowered his head for their first kiss as a married couple. Their only witness was the officiant, but he was grinning just as broadly as they were when Jack lifted Gabriel to his feet again. Signing the form took moments that felt like months, and then they were out on the street, in the sunshine, laughing and hugging and kissing like they'd never get another chance if they didn't do it now.

"You speak _Spanish_ ," Gabriel accused - or tried to. He sounded more delighted than angry. "How long have you been keeping that from me?"

"Thirty-some years," Jack admitted, blushing. "That...doesn't change anything, does it?"

"Oh, _mi sol,_ this changes _everything._ " Grinning, Gabriel gestured him into the car where their bags were already packed and piled in the back. "Good thing I was already planning to get our tickets last-minute, because it means we can change plans at the drop of a hat and _you,_ you glorious thing, have just dropped the hat."

Jack leaned over for another kiss as Gabriel slid into the driver's seat, heart fluttering at the new nickname. "I'm a _glorious_ thing now?"

"Yes," he answered firmly. "Yes, you are. And _we_ ," he said between kisses, "are going to spend the next week in Dorado."

That was considerably...warmer...than Jack had been expecting. "I'll need a swimsuit."

"You'll also need a good tanning oil," Gabriel pointed out. "Luckily, you now have a husband who will be _more_ than happy to assist with both."

"I would have settled for just having the husband, _amorcito._ "

Gabriel kissed him again and put the car in drive. "I know, _mi sol._ But I'm going to spoil the fuck out of you, so shut up and enjoy it."

Jack leaned back in his seat, feeling like he'd never stop smiling again. "Yes, _sir_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where (and when) Gabe got the rings, you'll find that story and more in the second infodump...


	9. Infodump 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This infodump covers events from Jack's birth to the end of the Omnic Crisis.

* * *

Birth to 18

* * *

  
  
Jack Daniel Morrison was born on June 14 in a hospital in Bloomington, Indiana, although his parents lived in one of the tiny towns scattered around the city. His father, John, had a drinking problem and his mother either liked the name Daniel enough to ignore the unfortunate connection or was too cowed to object. He had a fairly normal small-town childhood, with the exception of a collection of bottles that all had his name on them, and when he was six his little sister Madeline was born. Jack was an attentive big brother, helping his mother with the baby as much as he could while his father was at work. When he was seven, his mother was diagnosed with cancer. Whether through financial difficulty or inconvenience or just the type and severity of the cancer, she didn't last much more than a year and at the age of eight, Jack found himself thrust into a parental role.  
  
John Morrison was, to be frank, an ass. The extent of this will become clearer as we explore Jack's life. It's uncertain to what extent his father encouraged it, but his mother's illness left Jack with a hesitation to express anger because he was aware that every day might be his mother's last, and he didn't want to risk her dying with anger between them. When he got frustrated or upset, he would ask himself if it was worth expressing knowing that could be the last thing he said, and he always backed down and typically expressed affection instead, so that if the worst should happen, his last words to his mother would be 'I love you'. As his mother weakened, he started performing more chores around the house from caring for his sister to cleaning to some cooking. When she died, his father informed him that he had to fill his mother's shoes because he had to work to financially support the family.  
  
The next few years strengthened Jack's reluctance to express anger as his father deliberately preyed on the grief he didn't give his son the freedom to express. Anything that got Jack angry, no matter how justified, was met with a "suggestion" from Jack's father to reconsider in case his father died during the night. He also "taught" his son that love was all or nothing - either he loved and accepted his father with all his faults and flaws, or he didn't really love his father at all and if that was the case, then he should just cut his father out of his life entirely. By the time little Maddie was old enough to start school, Jack was completely unable to let himself express anger and had learned that protesting his father's temper gained him nothing but a guilt trip.  
  
Jack was expected to keep the house clean and see to his sister's needs on top of providing meals for the family and keeping up with his schoolwork. Presumably, Maddie spent her days in a daycare close to Mr. Morrison's place of employment until she reached school age. Although the meals Jack provided were initially what you'd expect from a particularly intelligent 8-year-old, he taught himself from cookbooks and quickly got better. He had almost no time to himself during the school year between his schoolwork and being the mother-figure of the household, and the little free time he had he spent learning skills that would help him be a better parent to his sister.  
  
During holidays, vacations, and the summer, Jack had more personal freedom and he spent as much time as he could in the woods doing outdoorsy things that had nothing to do with school or cleaning. He hunted (initially with snares, but later with firearms) and fished, climbed and swam, and taught himself how to cook on a campfire. When Maddie was old enough, she joined him and he studied first aid and outdoor safety so he could keep her safe. He learned early on how to clean and cook his catches, and what could be safely eaten in the woods. His prized recipe, though, was the biscuits he'd first learned from his mother and those were Maddie's favorite, so he experimented until he could cook them on a campfire.  
  
Jack has only vague memories of his birthday being celebrated. He didn't have any relatives close enough or young enough or who liked his parents enough to visit, so after his mother died, it was on him or his father to celebrate and his father declined on the grounds that there were "better things" to celebrate that day - Flag Day. There may have been active discouragement of Jack doing anything for his birthday. However, being right in the middle of strawberry season, there was no objection to Jack and Maddie going to a u-pick place and coming back with tons and tons of strawberries. Jack _loves_ strawberries. You can practically catch him in a cardboard box if you leave a bowl of strawberries underneath it as bait. Make a "cake" of strawberries, whipped cream, and some thin sponge cake or sweet biscuit, and Jack will cheerfully stuff himself silly.  
  
For school things that require parental permission, Jack's father reluctantly signed or attended - but only for him. For Maddie, Jack was the one who signed slips and went to parent-teacher meetings and such. The fact that only the most tentative objections were placed (usually an uncertain phone call to the house, and his father angrily confirming that Jack was authorized to act as Maddie's parent) gave Jack a deep mistrust for authority figures actually looking out for him, no matter what they were supposed to do or how much they claimed to care. Everyone knew his father was an alcoholic (it was a deep disappointment when he realized _why_ there were so many glass bottles with his name on them in the house) and that Jack was almost single-handedly raising his sister, but no one got any authorities involved. Between his inability to express anger and the helplessness of a pre-teen struggling to be his own parent, Jack just started walling away pieces of himself so he could keep going.  
  
Despite all the pressure he was under at home, Jack was an excellent student. Of course, part of that was that he walled away his emotions, his hopes and fears and needs, so that he could focus on what needed to be done, and that came across as being studious and sometimes tired. He got a lot of teasing for doing "girly" things like cooking and sewing - because it was either he make Halloween costumes himself or try to get his father to give him money to buy them, and the only way Maddie was going to have a birthday cake or cupcakes to bring in was if Jack baked them - and he just sucked it up. Sometimes he'd calmly explain that he had to do those things because his mother was dead, and that tended to shut up the one giving him flak. He had no time to participate in extra-curricular activities, very little time for social activities during the school year, and he didn't have the mental or emotional resources to figure out anything in terms of his own sexual or romantic preferences.  
  
Maddie got into anime around age 8, and Jack spent many hours watching with her, learning to sing various anime and j-pop songs with only a vague understanding of the lyrics. This destroyed what was left of his socially-constructed reluctance to depart from "male" gender roles, leaving him comfortable playing dress-up in cosmetics, jewelry, heels, and other "girly" trappings. When it came to "what other people think" versus "what my little sister thinks", Maddie's opinion won every time. Maddie _adored_ Jack. He was the one who cooked her breakfast, helped her get ready for school, packed her lunch, helped with her homework, and made dinner. He was the one who played with her, who took care of her when she was sick, who kissed the boo-boos and made them better. He wrapped all the presents (their father reluctantly allowed Christmas, but only as far as providing a budget for it), he left quarters under her pillow in exchange for baby teeth, he brushed her curly hair and tied it back, and he answered all the uncomfortable questions children ask their parents.  
  
In Jack's senior year of high school, when Maddie had already turned twelve but Jack was a few months away from graduating high school and then turning 18, the inevitable happened. Their father had been driving drunk for years, but Jack couldn't protest (because that would mean that He Didn't Love His Father and he should just cut his father out of his life, which would mean leaving the family, and that wasn't happening) and Maddie didn't know any better or trusted that if something was wrong, her big brother would say something. Jack either never got or didn't care about or walled away the details, but the pickup crashed into some immovable object and both his father and his sister were killed. The very cold comfort to that was that Jack's last words to her had been "I love you".  
  
Jack took three weeks of intermittent bereavement leave to arrange the funerals, attend them, and deal with the estate. The joint funeral was...awkward. Some of Mr. Morrison's co-workers came, and a lot of Maddie's classmates and their parents, but no relatives. His mom's side refused to have anything to do with the family while John Morrison was alive, and it would be months before they got word of his death. Some of Jack's teachers and classmates he had time to be friends with during the summer attended. No one had anything nice to say about Jack's father, so almost nothing was said about him at all. The priest gave a lame speech full of vague platitudes, damning with faint praise. It was different for Maddie - she got called an angel repeatedly, and there was a lot of crying at such a vibrant young life being snuffed out so suddenly. Jack was the picture-perfect grieving survivor. He sat silently, tears running down his face, looking so dead inside that you would have half-expected him to get up at any moment and climb into the casket with Maddie.  
  
An older veteran, either a distant relative or one of his father's co-workers, spoke to Jack at the funeral and suggested that he go into the military if he needed to keep busy and not think. Jack took that suggestion to heart and got in touch with a recruiter who got him in touch with people who helped him deal with the estate. Jack went back to school, almost completely closed off emotionally, and devoted himself to his schoolwork as if that were the only thing holding him together. Which, in all fairness, it kind of was. He went through his classes like a particularly eloquent zombie, aced all his finals, and then spent the 2-3 weeks until his birthday cleaning the house and preparing it for new owners. Clothes, toys, and other belongings were sold or given away. He kept only a handful of mementos for himself and made sure all the perishable food was gone and all the dishes clean and trash taken out and on his 18th birthday, he joined the United States military.

 

* * *

The military

* * *

  
  
Basic training was not as demanding as Jack had hoped it would be. Mentally, at least. The schedule was actually lighter than what Jack had been used to, and the physical aspect wasn't enough to tire him out enough that he didn't have the energy to think. Jack was used to not getting to bed until close to 11pm and waking up at 4am during the school year, so he actually had a hard time falling asleep at lights-out and sleeping until wake-up. He wrapped himself up tightly, walled almost everything away, and focused on being letter-perfect despite his disappointment that he wasn't been kept too busy to think. This had the effect of making him look not only dead inside, but disgusted that he wasn't dead _outside_ as well, and his drill instructor was on him almost constantly for 'insubordination', trying to either get a rise out of him or break him down. Jack took the verbal lashings and the punishments with the same insolent acceptance that had earned them in the first place and was, frustratingly, a model recruit otherwise.  A few future squad leaders hovered around the edges sometimes, taking the measure of the recruits ahead of time, and Gabriel Reyes was one of them.  
  
If the squad leaders had been allowed to pick their recruits, no one would have picked Jack. He looked like it was just a matter of time before he became A Problem, and that assessment was probably correct. But Reyes got stuck with one Jack Morrison, and he decided to nip whatever-it-was in the bud. He pulled Jack aside on the first day for a conversation that went something like this:  
  
     "Why are you here, Morrison?"  
     "Because you called me over, sir."  
     "No. Why are you _here_. You don't seem like you want to be here, so why did you join the army?"  
     "Didn't know what else to do after my dad and sister died, sir."  
     "What about your mother?"  
     "Died when I was eight, sir."  
     "Aunts? Uncles? Grandparents?"  
     "No family, sir."  
  
...and that's when Gabe realized that Jack was very, very broken and probably needed a mental health professional because he was just killing time until something killed _him_ , but all he had was one hard-ass Latino whose people skills were questionable to begin with. Gabe spouted the first piece of trite drivel that came to mind - "Your squad is your family now, Morrison!" - and then watched in utterly baffled astonishment as Jack thought about it and then _lit up_. He watched dead blue eyes come to life as Jack realized he had people again, he had a _purpose_ again, he had a reason to live, and all the apathetic, sullen insolence vanished right before Gabriel's eyes, leaving hope and determination and _life_. He dismissed Jack to rejoin his squad in their barracks and stood there like _what the fuck just happened, how the fuck did that even work,_ and that's how Jack managed to worm his way past Gabe's defenses.  
  
Jack's attitude did a 180, which got Gabe some attention from above, but he brushed it off with some bullshit about finding the right motivation for his problem recruit because fuck if he knew how he'd managed to do that. Nearly the first thing the new squads were put through was a two-week wilderness survival training exercise to promote bonding and teamwork: eight men and their sergeant dumped in the middle of the woods, hiking to a cache of supplies (tents, firearms, basic foodstuffs including some eggs and dairy in a cooler, some tools, etc.), and then just trying to get through in one piece until pickup. Gabe was _not_ looking forward to this. He was a city boy, born and raised, and had not dealt well with this training exercise _at all_ when he was a recruit. He hadn't learned to love the outdoors much more since then, and now he was going to have to keep eight noobs fresh out of basic in one piece. This from a man whose cooking skills extended as far as reading the directions on frozen dinners and regularly ate cold ravioli from the can because microwaving it was chancy. And to make it worse, one of the other new squad leaders had been in his squad and _knew_ that Gabriel's relationship with the outdoors could best be described with "Lord of the Flies".  
  
Being deposited in the woods and hiking to the cache went without incident. Tents were pitched, camp was made, latrines were dug, and the squad ate MREs for dinner before setting watches and going to bed. The most Gabriel was hoping for the next morning was maybe a small fire he could heat some water over for instant coffee. What he woke up to was Jack Morrison cooking fried eggs and biscuits over a tidy campfire, coffee already hot, and apologizing for having taken the initiative without waiting for Gabe's orders.  
  
In the years before Gabriel joined the military, his childhood and teenage years, he'd never really had _good_ cooking. His mother had mental issues that should have been medicated but weren't, and he wound up with a mindset that the better something tasted, the more love had gone into cooking it. He'd dated a few girls who cooked him some meals, but none of them were very good and the relationships (either because of that, or for unrelated reasons) never lasted long. Cooking, as far as he was concerned, was wizardly. He took one bite of Jack's homemade biscuits, a family recipe honed and perfected over a decade of practice, and fell in love.  
  
To Jack's utter confusion, his CO put down his plate and mug, stood up, crossed the small camp, took Jack's face between his hands, and _licked his forehead_. "There," he declared as the rest of the squad watched and tried not to snicker, "I licked you. You're mine now." Because, of course, Jack was fairly attractive but he was still 18 years old and of average build and Gabe liked his men meatier. But aside from that, Jack was one of his soldiers and Gabe's not exactly open about or accepting of his own emotions, so like hell is he going to _act_ on what he feels. Unless by 'act' you mean 'act like an elementary school kid who expresses affection through mild playground torments' in which case, yes, Gabe is _absolutely_ acting his feelings.  
  
While the squad ate breakfast, Gabriel announced that Morrison would be in charge of cooking and thus was exempt from a list of other camp chores. There was one complaint, but it was hissed down by his neighbors because none of _them_ had been expecting fresh biscuits either, and they didn't want to risk anyone else's cooking. Jack was Gabriel's godsend the rest of the day, hesitantly offering suggestions that Gabe turned into orders with a raised eyebrow and a "Well? You heard the man." He stood with arms crossed and 'supervised' as Jack taught the squad about campfires and cooking and foraging for edible plants.  
  
One guy tried to mock Jack for knowing how to cook, but it didn't get very far because what he said was "did your mommy teach you how to cook?" and Jack's reply was "before she died, yes" in a tone of wounded calm. Three days into their training exercise, someone pissed off a bull moose. Gabriel got its attention and stood his ground as it charged him, emptying his firearm into the moose's neck before dodging at the last second. Then there was some keep-away as it thrashed and finally died, and while the other guys were still letting it sink in that they could have died but holy shit they're alive, Jack piped up that they were looking at dinner. The rest of the afternoon was spent dressing and butchering the moose and hauling it (and the head) back to camp; the evening was spent gathering dry and green wood, building multiple fires for smoking almost 500lbs of moose meat, and trimming the meat for smoking. Everyone had moose steak for dinner.  
  
Men being men, and especially military men, there were countless joking comments about Jack's meat and everyone's wood, which did absolutely nothing for Gabriel's ability to ignore his newfound feelings for Jack. At one point, jokingly protesting an insincere demand, Jack rhetorically asked "what do you want?" and Gabriel replied, "cookies". Jack asked what kind and was told chocolate chip, and he half-challenged, half-promised his CO that when presented with the proper ingredients, he would gladly bake cookies. The rest of the two-week training exercise passed a lot more pleasantly than anyone had anticipated, and no one ate the emergency MREs. Gabriel spent a lot of time cleaning the moose's skull to keep as a trophy. Between the supplies they'd been given and what they were able to fish, hunt, and forage, they actually ate better than back at base. Throw in Jack's familiarity with forest injuries and first aid and his tendency to fuss over his squad in a motherly sort of way, and he quickly got nicknamed Mr. Mom, which pleased him.  
  
The squad leader that had been with Gabriel for his wilderness survival trip was smugly anticipatory when they arrived back at base. They had a bit of a rivalry going, and he was looking forward to giving Gabe hell over spending two weeks in charge of a squad in the woods. But when he asked Gabe how his "camping trip" was, Gabe smugly replied, "Delicious. My compliments to the chef." The other squad leader protested he hadn't been given a chef. "Ooooh, yes I was," Gabe replied, smirking. "I already licked him, you can't have him." Then he beckoned Jack forward, having appointed him (with many "head" jokes) the Bearer Of The Skull, to show off his trophy. (Jack kept one of the moose's hooves as a trophy for himself; Gabriel insisted.)  
  
Later, there was an attempt at someone mocking Jack for his taste in music. Jack defended himself by saying it had been one of his sister's favorites. The asshat smarmily demanded to know if Jack's sister was cute, wanting to see pictures, and then protested when he was shown a picture of a 12-year-old girl because 'hey, this is a child' and demanded something more recent. Jack said there _was_ nothing more recent, that was taken three weeks before she died. No one really teased him after that, and the guys (in his squad and otherwise) who'd gotten used to him stepped in when new guys thought he would be an easy target for raising their social status by pushing him down. Blowhards in the military are a dime a dozen; Mr. Mom is special. Initially, "Mr. Mom" was a mocking nickname from guys not in his squad, but he never got mocked for long. It was like verbally kicking a puppy. That didn't mean he didn't wind up doing a bunch of things for other guys because they'd asked him to, and he was nearly incapable of saying no. Gabriel urged him repeatedly to stand up for himself, tried to convince him that it was okay to have boundaries and say no, but he didn't have much success.  
  
Soon after their return from the wilderness training, Gabriel demanded that Jack provide him with a list of what he would need to make cookies, and Jack complied. A few days later, he was ordered to report to what turned out to be a kitchen, with all his required ingredients and utensils laid out on a table/counter and Gabriel sitting beside them, smirking. Bemused, Jack proceeded to make chocolate-chip cookies with Gabe watching because he wanted to see this wizardry in action. The huge military kitchen meant he could get all the cookies in the oven at the same time. As soon as they were cool enough to touch, Gabriel took a bite and then stuffed the whole cookie in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, grabbed Jack's head in both hands, and licked his forehead. Then he dismissed Jack and proceeded to devour all four dozen warm cookies (Jack made them a little big) and waddle back to his room to pass out. Jack got asked why there was a brown streak on his forehead and could only answer with "Reyes licked me again". Gabe looked almost hung over the next day, but completely and unrepentantly satisfied.  
  
As mentioned, Jack hadn't had time to figure anything out with regards to romantic or sexual attraction in high school. But he was developing some confusing feelings for his CO and, with no other coping mechanism, was just walling the whole issue away. Gabriel noticed the change, because Jack was usually bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at what Gabe considered an unholy hour of the morning. ("You're just a goddamn ray of sunshine, aren't you, Morrison?" "Sir, yes sir!") After a few days of Jack being less enthusiastic and more dead-eyed, Gabe ordered him into a quiet room and plunked a root beer float down in front of him. He ordered Jack to drink it and tried to get him to talk about what was bothering him. Naturally, Jack wouldn't talk, but some of the walls did come down and Gabe encouraged him to come to him with any issues he had. They wound up talking about how Jack wasn't used to having anyone to lean on. ("Damn it, Morrison, I'm your CO! You're _supposed_ to lean on me, it's in my fucking job description!") The fact that Gabriel genuinely cared about Jack only strengthened those new feelings, but it also cemented his status as The Only Person Jack Trusts To Care About Him. Whenever Jack started to look closed off or dead inside, Gabriel would wait until late evening and drag him off somewhere quiet for a root beer float and try to get him to talk. Sometimes he succeeded; other times, he had to settle for Jack literally leaning on him and knowing that he was doing everything he could.  
  
When Gabriel learned that Jack could sew and was comfortable enough with himself that he didn't object to doing "feminine" things up to and including wearing dresses and cosmetics, he gave Jack the most scarily delighted look. Jack found himself recruited for doing the basic sewing on a pair of Halloween costumes while Gabe did the more complex aspects, and also recruited for wearing one of the costumes. He didn't really object, partially for the novelty of not being the one in charge and partially because he was fairly sure he was in love with his CO and dreadfully aware of the fact that this was strongly frowned upon and Bad Things would likely happen if anyone found out. But if his CO was joking around and giving him a hard time and he was just rolling with it and joking back, well, that was fine, right?  
  
And that's how they wound up going as Gomez and Morticia Addams for Halloween, with Jack unabashedly playing up Morticia's mannerisms and grateful for his four years of French in high school. The first time he uttered a phrase in French, however, Gabriel froze. "Jack," he exclaimed, "that's French!" Then, to the amusement of everyone present, he did the kiss-up-the-arm thing. Jack did his best to play it with Morticia's graceful dignity, but under his makeup and wig, he was blushing. Following years saw Jack dressed as Team Rocket's James/Kojiro and Tenou Haruka/Sailor Uranus. There was also some incident involving fishnets, high heels, and the song 'Gay Bar'.  
  
Periodically, Gabriel challenged Jack to make certain foods. He was fascinated by Jack's ability to turn components into delicious, and literally hungry for what he perceived as Jack's love since their normal schedule didn't give Jack much opportunity to cook otherwise. Jack was just happy to make his crush happy by cooking for him. By far the most successful of these challenges was the pizza. Jack hadn't thought there was much special about his pizza, but he grew up in a small town and then went into the military so he didn't have much to compare it to. He made a pizza, the same as he'd made in the past, with sliced sausage and mushrooms and tomatoes. Running on habit, he cut it into six slices - two each for him, Maddie, and their father - and served two to Gabriel and himself and then froze as he realized what he'd just done. He didn't have time to think about it, though, because Gabriel took a bite and made a scandalous sound of pleasure. Jack ate his pizza cheerfully, enjoying and trying to hide is enjoyment of how much Gabriel was enjoying the pizza. Gabe devoured his two slices, then reached for the last two and paused to throw Jack an uncertain glance. Jack shook his head and waved the issue away, and Gabe devoured the last two slices. Then he leaned back and groaned in a way that made Jack blush because it was so physically satisfied that it sounded sexual. But Gabriel wasn't done disturbing Jack's composure, because in a very post-coital tone he announced his intention to marry Jack for his pizza.  
     "But then I couldn't come with you on assignments," Jack protested. "I'd be a military spouse."  
     "But pizza though."  
     "Pizza on the weekends, or pizza on _deployment?_ "  
     "...Point."  
Of course, this just started a pattern where once or twice a month, Gabriel demanded pizza and threatened afterwards to marry Jack, and Jack gave reasons why that couldn't happen, even though he really liked the idea.  
  
The squad went on a cold-weather training exercise somewhere by a pond, with a good few inches of snow on the ground. Gabriel was not looking forward to this one either, but not for food reasons. Although cultural opinion had shifted away from knee-jerk "same-sex = bad", the "no homo" toxic masculinity was still alive and well, especially in the military. Anything that might come off as less than "manly" was anathema to 90% of the guys there, and some of that effort to maintain a "manly" image could be hazardous to continued survival in some situations. He thought his worst fears were going to be confirmed when the ice on the pond started cracking underneath two hotshots, but Jack was familiar with the dangers of ice and had a long branch in hand to help pull the hotshots in from the shore. He got one in, but the other panicked as the ice broke under his feet and, in his flailing to get on shore, he knocked Jack into the now-broken ice, and Jack went under. Gabriel shouted for a blanket and grabbed the branch, shoving it into the water for Jack to grab because finding the hole in the ice is not as easy from underneath as it is from the surface. Jack grabbed the branch and clawed his way onto shore where he immediately started stripping and then clung, naked and shivering, to Gabriel, who wrapped the blanket around them both and barked furious orders at the two hotshots to get the fire built up, pitch tents, etc. After that object demonstration on the dangers of being wet in sub-freezing temperatures, followed by a lecture on _surviving_ being wet in sub-freezing temperatures, the rest of the training went smoothly. Although that _wasn't_ the way he'd wanted to have Jack strip naked and fling himself at him, Gabriel was deeply grateful that he hadn't had to convince Jack that getting naked in the snow was something he had to do immediately. If part of his checking on the health of his soldier involved checking the dryness of his hair or the warmth is his skin through the more sensitive skin of his kips, well, no one can prove he _wasn't_ kissing Jack's head, right?  
  
On April 12th, during something routine and inconsequential, Gabriel shouted "Morrison! Get over here and give me your hand!" Jack came running and thrust out his hand, and Gabriel just reached out and held it. After a moment, he grinned and said, "You gave me your hand, that means we're married and you're my husband now."  It's not like Jack never got any good-natured teasing over being the squad darling before that, but it became an open joke after that, with both Jack and Gabriel taking it in stride and Gabe encouraging it. There may have been some "Sergeant Dad and Mr. Mom" joking because Gabe does tend to adopt people, but Jack's the one that then tends to them.  
  
The first time one of Gabriel's squad turned 21, he smuggled in booze for everyone. Jack declined with a simple "I'm not 21" that could have sounded insolent from someone else but was almost apologetic from him. Gabriel jokingly appointed him the designated driver - a joke because they weren't driving anywhere - and Jack made himself quietly useful in fetching drinks, snacks, cleaning up, etc. He made sure everyone got safely to bed, carrying them if he had to, and left water in easy reach of everyone. He brought or made breakfast as well, slipping quietly and inoffensively into Gabe's room with all the skill he'd learned avoiding his father's hung-over temper. Gabriel crankily accused him of being a ray of fucking sunshine while Jack set breakfast and coffee on his bedside table. "Are you ever _not_ a ray of fucking sunshine, Morrison?" "No, sir." "...well, you're the only sunshine I want to see before coffee." "Yes, sir."  
  
After that, Jack was the "designated driver" for every 21st birthday celebration, quietly bringing non-nauseating breakfast to Gabriel the next morning. At some point, Gabriel was going through Jack's file for something (probably his birthday) and saw something he'd dismissed before: Jack's middle name. He was in the middle of rhetorically asking the empty room who the hell names their kid "Jack Daniel" when he remembered that Jack was scarily good at knowing how to soothe an angry and hung over man and put two and two together. After that, he stopped getting regularly trashed on hard liquor (which Jack hadn't known he was doing except when it was part of a 'party') and saved it for special occasions, switching to beer otherwise and keeping it to just a few. Apparently learning that your crush's dad was an alcoholic prick will make it less appealing to get shitfaced, go figure.  
  
When it came around to Jack's birthday, Gabe made vague noises about celebrating, but Jack brushed them uncomfortably off with mutters about there being better things to celebrate and Gabe let it go...for two years. The week before Jack's 21st, Gabriel took him aside. "I let you skate by without making a fuss for two years," he told Jack, "but it's your 21st and there's no way in _hell_ I'm letting that go without being celebrated. So whatever you want - drinking, strip clubs, I'll even buy you a hooker if that's what you're in the mood for." He wasn't surprised when Jack declined the drinking, and slightly heartened when he had no interest in female flesh because Jack hadn't expressed any interest in either men _or_ women (he'd confessed to Gabriel that he just hadn't had the time or energy to figure it out, and Gabe was waiting for him to figure out what he was into so he knew if he had a chance with Jack or not), but that left Jack trying to figure out what he _did_ want and eventually he decided he wanted to try Indian food. So they had a wide assortment of Indian food and leftovers for days.

 

* * *

The Soldier Enhancement Program

* * *

  
  
When the Soldier Enhancement Program was (quietly) announced, certain military personnel were approached and asked if they were interested, and also if they wanted to recommend anyone for it. Gabriel was one of them, and he accepted, but he also recommended Jack for it as well. In the field for reasons why the recommended soldier should be considered, he wrote, "Have you ever heard of Captain America?" Jack found that out when he was brought in for an assessment and told that Reyes had recommended him with that - and only that - as a reason. Jack was secretly pleased that Gabriel thought so much of him, and that he hadn't taken the "small town farm boy" easy route and compared him to Clark Kent. Of course, he also knew that Gabe had more respect for the skinny inner-city scrapper than the invulnerable godling, but that just made the comparison more touching. Jack was put through an extensive interview process, including a psych eval, and finally accepted into the SEP. Whether they were the first group or only the first group to survive, Jack didn't ask. It was him and seven or nine others, with Gabriel as their CO, all going through the same enhancement treatments.  
  
The enhancement process was a lot less structured than anyone had anticipated. The treatments induced a state of increased receptiveness to development, mentally as well as physically. There were only two problems with this: it wasn't a general or overall development, and the focus of development couldn't be pre-determined or changed. The ones in charge of the SEP wanted Jack and the others to focus on military applications - tactics or fighting methods or whatnot. What happened instead was a soldier would wake up with a BURNING NEED that would consume them for hours. Maybe Gabriel had intended to study tactics when he woke up, but instead he discovered that he needed to run 25 miles RIGHT NOW. Or maybe Jack had intended to practice a martial art. Too bad, he's just read 3 dictionaries in 45 minutes and now he's demanding all the materials on learning Italian that can be provided, and he needs them RIGHT NOW or he's going to start hurting people. And sometimes, they'd wake up with an insatiable hunger. Two dozen eggs, an entire loaf of bread, and a gallon of milk? Toss in a pound of ham or bacon and that's breakfast. For one man.  
  
With all their enhancement subjects experiencing what they came to call "SEP cravings", any kind of coordinated activity was completely impossible. Denying the craving led to irrational aggression, fury, and violence. Satisfying the craving was borderline orgasmic, but once satisfied the subject needed a good 8-12 hours of not doing whatever the craving had demanded while their body or brain recovered, and this period usually involved pain. That was to be expected with physical cravings, such as running or lifting or learning a new fighting style. It was somewhat more surprising when the craving was mental, such as gorging on tactics or learning a new language, and especially uncomfortable in the latter case because the entire language center of the brain hurt to use. That meant not only using the new language, but processing _any_ language in _any_ way resulted in migraine-like pain. Listening to music or speech, reading, even _thinking_ in words hurt like hell for eight to twelve hours.   
  
The first few days of enhancement treatments were uneventful; it took time to build up to a level where the cravings started, so initially there were structured periods of exercising, training, and studying. Jack first realized he was experiencing enhancement when he found himself digging up memories of listening to a specific song in Japanese. However, he had memories of two different covers of the song, with two sets of lyrics that had never been more than sounds to him, and now he was comparing them like they were lined up in front of his eyes. Furthermore, he was dredging up _all_ his memories of Japanese and reverse-engineering the meaning of the lyrics from comparing memories of subtitled anime containing the same words and deducing their meaning. He reported this development - it was his first craving - and got permission to spend the day learning Japanese.  
  
Once he'd stuffed his brain full of Japanese and what he would come to call "language migraine" had set in, Jack wandered the halls of the complex seeking some non-lingual distraction to keep his thoughts quiet. It was evening, so there was lots of distraction, but hearing words hurt so he kept moving. Fortunately, Gabriel was also experiencing his first craving and had found a small music room with a piano. He was angry at himself for wasting time doing something as dumb as teaching himself piano, and angrier that it felt _so good_ , but then he looked up and Jack was curled up on the benchlike couch in the room, apparently asleep. When Gabriel stopped playing, or cursed out loud, Jack would look up with an expression of dark resentment soaked in pain, and laid his head back down and relaxed when Gabriel started playing again. Gabriel might have been stubborn enough to try to fight his craving, but he wouldn't fight something that eased Jack's pain. Several hours later, when just looking at a piano made his head hurt, he kissed a now-sleeping Jack on the temple and carried him back to his bed. The next morning, over biscuits and eggs and bacon, Jack explained what he'd been going through and Gabriel shared his experience. The day after, Gabriel handed Jack a recording of himself playing piano for six to eight hours so that if Jack had another language migraine, he could get relief even if Gabriel wasn't around or available to play for him. This turned out to be excellent foresight, because Jack wound up stuffing several more languages into his head including Italian, Greek, Korean, Arabic, and Mandarin.  
  
While Jack learned languages, Gabriel learned martial arts, but languages weren't the only thing Jack was learning; aside from the generic "must run 25 miles" and "must jump rope for five hours" that all the enhancement subjects got, Jack found himself with cooking cravings. The first one was conveniently timed, and Jack prepared enough fresh ravioli in alfredo sauce to satisfy a handful of his peers who were experiencing the need to eat ALL the things (plus Gabriel, who was determined to not miss out on either good food or the opportunity to make jokes about Jack's cream sauce). Of course, the head chef initially refused to clear out so Jack could cook, and Jack dislocated his arm.  
  
The éclairs were...less fortuitously timed. Initially, Gabriel raced to the kitchen and bellowed EVERYONE OUT, MORRISON NEEDS TO COOK and then just sat there and ate éclairs as Jack finished them. After the first dozen or so, however, he started calling in the other soldiers technically under his command and they feasted on the next few dozen, but Jack kept baking. Gabriel loaded éclairs onto plates and sent his other soldiers off to the executive and administrative offices in the complex to deliver the treats with a brisk salute and no explanation. The cleaning staff were next. Jack kept baking. Gabriel and the others re-arranged the contents of fridge and freezer and just started packing them in. Gabriel took one of the other guys (and a pile of éclairs) and went to the store for more ingredients before Jack ran out, and they forcibly gave éclairs away. ("Do you love your country?" "Uh...yes?" "Then take these éclairs and eat them. Compliments of the US military.") After close to a thousand éclairs, Jack's hands gave out and he pretty much fell over. He woke up the next day in his bed, with a smirking Gabe sitting on his bedside table holding a plate of éclairs that he declared were breakfast. Some of the leftover éclairs were handed out to passers-by, compliments of the military. Some of them were sent to some catered function(s), much to the confusion of the caterers.  
  
Inevitably, all the enhancement subjects bulked up. In Jack's case, this just strengthened the running joke associating him with Steve Rogers. It also meant that Gabriel was suddenly _much_ more interested because he'd gone from "not my type but I'd give it a shot" to "exactly my type, holy fuck, get into my bed". One of the cravings Gabriel had gotten was for costuming, bringing his skill level up from "I can improvise a few things" to something that could produce professional-quality costumes. Jack cheerfully went as Captain America for Halloween. Gabe brought back the "Tish, that's French!" kiss up the arm gag, unabashedly kissing up Jack's arm every time he said something in a language that wasn't English, even if he had to ask what language it was halfway through. Another craving Gabriel wound up with, inexplicably, was learning to tango. Naturally, he conscripted Jack as his partner.  
  
Once the physical enhancements kicked in, Gabriel held a booze party to test the limits of their new metabolisms. For science. Jack was charged with tallying how many drinks people had and their level of inebriation, bowls of chips and dip and pretzels were provided, and the drinking commenced. Gabriel had decided to host the party so that he could just roll into bed when he got too drunk to sit up, which meant that as the other soldiers called it quits, threw up, or passed out, Jack helped or carried them back to their rooms to tuck them into bed on their sides with aspirin and bottles of water within reach. When he returned from one such mission, he discovered that Gabriel was sitting contemplatively in an armchair with a half-empty bowl of chips in his hands, and the last soldier was in the bathroom. Before he could say anything, Gabriel vomited into the bowl - not the first time Jack had seen him that drunk, he'd had to help his CO to the bathroom once in the Army, but still something that scraped against memories of his father. Jack checked on the man in the bathroom, helped him to bed, and came back to Gabriel drinking vodka like it was bottled water and drunkenly requesting pizza. His faulty logic was that now that his stomach was empty, he had to fill it again. Jack microwaved some cheap pizza Gabriel had in his fridge and helped Gabriel eat it, surreptitiously trying to distract him from the alcohol, and set about doing some cleaning once it was gone while Gabriel slumped, barely awake, in the chair. A few minutes later, he got up and stumbled around looking for something to drink because "the vodka and the pizza are fighting and I need to help the vodka win". Jack was too slow to stop him from chugging the rest of the bottle, but with him upright and looking distinctly sick, he was able to guide Gabriel to the bathroom and get him in front of the toilet only a few seconds too late. Now fighting the sullen resentment nurtured over long years of tending to his alcoholic father, he dumped Gabriel in the tub to keep him in one  place while he finished cleaning up the quarters. Then he stripped and washed Gabriel off and made a pot of coffee because this _was_ more drunk than he'd ever seen his CO and he was going to spend the rest of the night watching over him and trying to get water into his system.  
  
When Gabriel finally woke up and registered Jack's presence, the first thing that came out of his mouth was an attempted joke - 'What's for breakfast?' He figured out almost immediately that this was the wrong thing to say, and that Jack's late, unlamented father had probably said that, when Jack's expression turned closed and angry. He knew that Jack didn't get angry, that he swallowed and internalized it, but this was too much to swallow and Jack stalked out before any of it could escape, leaving Gabe feeling like shit physically _and_ emotionally. By the time he'd downed coffee and water and frozen waffles and showered and dressed and felt human again, Jack was locked and barricaded in his room, sleeping. Gabriel checked on the others, made sure they were okay, and then sat by Jack's door waiting for him to wake up so he could apologize. When Jack woke up, however, he had an angry crying jag as he tried to reconcile his anger at Gabriel's actions with the fact that he did still love the man, and he refused to come out or open the door or respond at all past a short, sullen 'no' when Gabriel demanded he answer. Realizing how badly he'd fucked up, Gabriel did his best to apologize via the expression of love that was cooking, and left his best efforts on a tray outside Jack's room around dinnertime. Jack opened the door later, once the others would be at dinner, and the sight of the tray sent him right back into his room to cry again because this was proof that Gabriel cared, which in Jack's mind meant that he was the one who was failing to uphold his half of the relationship because he was hiding and crying when he should have been out there doing all the perfect spouse things his father had expected him to do. Having let Gabriel down so badly in his mind, both in not being able to accept and forgive and not being there to uphold his end of the relationship, shook Jack a second time and he went back to crying because he couldn't reconcile the abusive bullshit his father had shoved down his throat and he didn't feel up to facing Gabriel.  
  
Early the next morning, emotionally wrung out and absolutely starving, Jack crept out of his room and down to the kitchen - where Gabriel was sitting at the table, head propped up on one hand, sleeping. After dinner, he'd waited until lights-out but Jack didn't emerge, and Gabriel figured his cooking wasn't good enough to convey his feelings, so he camped in the kitchen and lay in wait to ambush Jack with a root beer float (which he was confident in his ability to not fuck up) and _then_ apologize. But Jack never came out of his room, and Gabriel fell asleep. When he woke up, Jack was setting breakfast down in front of him. Gabriel stood up, made a root beer float, and set it down in front of Jack before sitting next to him. Jack understood this for the apology it was, and cried into Gabriel's shoulder while Gabe held him, his quiet "I'm sorry, Jack" the only words either of them said. Gabriel didn't drink past a few beers again until the formation of the Overwatch Strike Force. He'd made Jack the angriest he'd ever seen the man, hurt him enough that the man with almost no sense of personal boundaries had pulled away, and regardless of his own self-worth issues and self-destructive tendencies, he refused to do that to Jack again.  
  
Despite the fact that neither of them really discussed what happened during and after the booze party, they both knew that apologies had been tendered and accepted and that all was good between them again. So when Gabriel was hit with a craving to stuff pizza into his body until he couldn't physically hold any more, he signed out a jeep and took Jack to a local place - or as local a place can be when you're in a military research facility some thirty miles away from the nearest town. After an hour-ish drive down gravel, dirt roads, and finally some pavement, they arrived at the pizza place and Gabriel announced that he'd called ahead for six large pizzas. Before paying, he turned to Jack and asked what Jack wanted. Flustered, Jack ordered a large pizza for himself. Gabe handed him the card and took his pizzas to a table, where he started chowing down. Jack paid and sat at the table with him. When his pizza came out, he ate with more restraint but still finished the whole thing. Gabriel was on his third pizza, and the scent made Jack realize that he wasn't actually full yet. Hesitantly, he ordered a second pizza. While he ate, he and the staff watched in awe as Gabriel got through the fifth pizza and leaned back with a mighty belch to unfasten his pants. Then he asked Jack to start handing him slices from the sixth pizza so he didn't have to try to reach them himself. At this point, Jack figured it was best to play along and get Gabe out of the store before anything unfortunate happened. He'd eaten two large pizzas and was feeling comfortably full, but Gabriel was finishing his sixth and looked like he'd stuffed an entire roast turkey under his shirt. Once the last bite vanished down his throat, Gabriel let out another impressive belch and tossed the jeep's keys to Jack.  
  
It was a slow and careful shuffle to the vehicle, Jack practically holding Gabriel up while Gabe supported his belly with both hands. They got him carefully settled in the reclined front seat, where he lay groaning and rubbing his belly gently. Jack climbed into the driver's seat, started the jeep, and drove slowly and carefully off into the night. It was a slow and harrowing drive for Jack, who focused on making the drive as smooth as possible because some of the groaning Gabriel was doing suggested that any unnecessary jostling would cause him to miscarry his food baby. But, because it had been an SEP craving and he'd satisfied it, the other half of the groaning made it sound like his wandering hands were stroking something other than his belly, and Jack was very grateful that the darkness hid his blush. Once they left the pavement, Jack slowed down even further.  
  
He estimated they were about halfway back before Gabriel directed him to stop because he had to pee. Unfortunately, he was way too full to sit up and leave the jeep. Jack scrambled to search the vehicle and found an abandoned half-empty bottle of water, which he emptied and offered to his bloated CO. After watching Gabriel try and fail to line up the mouth of the bottle and the head of his penis while not being able to see what he was doing, Jack blushed harder and stuttered out a 'let me do it'. The second half of the drive was, amazingly, even _more_ uncomfortable for Jack because he was being whiplashed between erotic groans and the memory of handling Gabriel's penis, and nauseated groans and the fear that the pizza would make a second appearance because he wouldn't feel right going to bed until the jeep was cleaned out. Finally, roughly three hours after they left the pizza place, they returned to base and shuffled slowly and carefully - with many pauses to let Gabriel breathe - to Gabe's room. The endorphins had worn off by that point, leaving Gabriel less than comfortable, and Jack made sure to lay him down on his side just in case. Fortunately for Gabe, the food baby stayed put.  
  
In the end, not all the SEP subjects wound up fit for combat. Gabriel came out almost exactly the way the heads of the program had wanted: a tactical genius and master of almost all forms of combat, capable of incredible feats of death and destruction. Three of the subjects had their sanity shattered by the experience, one going feral and cannibalistic. Gabriel was tasked with hunting him down and shooting him in his makeshift lair, where he'd dragged the half-eaten body of a cleaning lady. One of the subjects wound up with incredible mechanical proficiency, and was transferred to a research and development position. The rest were physically superior soldiers with a scattered array of proficiencies that did not lend themselves neatly to anything useful. And then there was Jack, whose psychological profile and mastery of languages laid the groundwork for him being a useful figure to put in the public eye later. Whether the program would have been continued with more thoroughly-vetted candidates or not, no one will ever know because the Omnic Crisis demanded action, and the United States had two sterling examples of exceptional soldiers to contribute to the international strike force.

 

* * *

The Omnic Crisis

* * *

  
  
The international collection of bigwigs that formed the Overwatch Strike Force were more than happy to have Gabriel Reyes named commander with Jack as his lieutenant. They had a few days of leave to settle their affairs, and Gabriel took the opportunity to have a private "for tomorrow we may die" party. Remembering what had happened last time, he put Jack in charge of the alcohol and they both ate while Gabe drank. At some point in the late hours of the evening, Gabriel drunkenly declared his freedom from the military by twirling his dog tags around on his finger and semi-unintentionally hurling them at a wall. When he passed out, Jack picked them up. He slid one tag off each chain, his and Gabe's, and switched them. When he put his own chain back on, the top tag was his but the bottom was Gabriel's. Gabriel's chain, he put in a safe-deposit box. When Gabriel asked why Jack was still wearing his dog tags, Jack answered that it wasn't out of loyalty to the military, it was a reminder of the past and something that made him feel grounded and happy.  
  
The first international task force member Gabriel and Jack met was Ana Amari, along with her infant daughter Fareeha. Ana and Gabe didn't get along smoothly at first, but Jack endeared himself immediately by proving himself as a surrogate parent. He served as the buffer the other two needed to get used to each other without things exploding messily. When it came to actually going on missions, Gabe and Jack were the two most suited to surviving in uncivilized environments and many times, being able to approach the target from the wilderness meant the difference between success and failure.  
  
On one occasion, they were hiking through a mountainous forest and Gabriel felt they both needed to cool their heads after some heated joking, so he pushed Jack off-balance while the other man was crossing a frigid stream by balancing on a fallen log. The water wasn't cold enough to be dangerous, but it was still enough that they made camp right there and Jack stripped to let his clothes dry in the sun while he stole body heat from Gabriel in revenge. It definitely quieted both of them, but getting Jack in his arms had been Gabriel's plan and Jack wasn't going to shy away from the opportunity to be held by his crush.  
  
During one otherwise-quiet night, Gabriel and Jack had a long, in-depth discussion of the joke that they were married, and whether it would be more accurate to call Jack a husband or a wife. It went into gender roles and traditional division of labor and cultural assumptions and the division of labor and roles specific to same-sex couples. In the end, they didn't reach an solid conclusion past "the terms are too gendered, we don't have words for this."  
  
At the conclusion of the Omnic Crisis, Gabriel was on edge and significantly high-strung. He'd heard talk of making the Strike Force a permanent thing, an international organization for peace, and he was afraid the Powers That Be would make him the head of it and shackle him to a desk, and to paperwork. He was completely unexpected for a shaken and almost terrified Jack coming to his quarters to confess that he'd been pulled into a secret meeting and handed the position in such a way that he couldn't get out of it easily. Somewhat panicked, Jack told Gabriel that he refused to take the position without having Gabe there to watch his back and they talked it over and roughed out what would become the Overwatch/Blackwatch dynamic. They both knew that Jack would be bound by red tape, a figurehead and scapegoat all in one. He'd do the talking, be the public face, while Gabriel went behind the scenes to make sure that all the things that needed to be done, got done. Jack went back to the Powers That Be and told them he'd be their poster boy as long as he had Gabriel to handle the more martial aspects, and he spun it in such a way that they didn't suspect how big a role Blackwatch would have. The double-edged sword of making a gifted speaker your figurehead is having that gift turned against you, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did so much googling to figure some of this stuff out. Moose are terrifying.


	10. Infodump 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This infodump covers the founding of Overwatch through to Jack and Gabe settling into married life.

* * *

Overwatch

* * *

 

Jack Morrison was the perfect poster boy for the newly-minted Overwatch organization. He had the blond-haired, blue-eyed, handsome, All-American look that inspired admiration and the humble, public servant demeanor that inspired trust. He had the folksy, small-town upbringing, the tragic past, and the military service. He spoke roughly a dozen languages fluently. He also had the hero of the Omnic Crisis, Gabriel Reyes, as his second-in-command to take care of all the military operations Overwatch might be called upon to perform, while Strike-Commander Morrison focused on the non-military aspects: diplomacy, research, search-and-rescue, relief missions - all the "good publicity" things. Jack answered to a council of bureaucrats from the UN, explaining and justifying budget requests, smoothing over ruffled feathers and securing permission for Overwatch to act in various areas of the world.  
  
The council thought he was their figurehead. In reality, he was Gabriel's figurehead. That's not to say that Gabe ran the complete show, because the only way "Gabriel Reyes" and "diplomacy" went together was "badly". But there were a lot more military actions than anyone outside the organization would have suspected. Gabriel let Jack know what he needed; Jack talked the council into giving it to Overwatch. There was a lot of 'don't ask, don't tell' between them because they both knew that certain things were not only necessary but _required_ , or logical and useful but unsavory, and if Jack knew about them he would be obligated to tell Gabe to stop, or to report them to the council. Gabriel told Jack what he needed to know, and Jack didn't ask about anything else.  
  
The other surviving members of the strike force gladly took positions in Overwatch. Ana became Jack's administrative second-in-command so she could be as involved and present for her daughter as possible. While Overwatch was still small, Jack made breakfast in the mornings and dinner in the evenings. Once construction on the Switzerland HQ was complete and recruiting meant there were more than a handful of them there, he interviewed several top chefs to head the facility's kitchen. The process involved testing not only the chef's ability to run a large kitchen and cook for dozens at a time, but Jack personally tasted a variety of dishes the chef had prepared. He finally settled on one and everyone was happy, but a month later she asked for a meeting with him. Delicately, she explained that she'd been hired "to cook for him" but he never actually took meals from her kitchen. Jack explained that what he'd meant was that he needed someone who could cook in his place, since as much as he would have loved to cook for the entirety of Overwatch, he just didn't have the time. He cooked breakfast and dinner, but he barely had time to grab a sandwich for lunch. She started having hot lunches sent up to his office.  
  
Gabriel learned that Jack was...not exactly a workaholic, but that he had a very hard time saying no to a request, and he had a horrifyingly low idea of where his needs ranked out of everything. When Jack started looking exhausted at breakfast, Gabriel started stopping by his office late at night and herding Jack off to bed. Once, and only once, he took Jack at his word that he was going to finish the thing he was working on and then go to bed. Gabriel woke up the next morning to an empty kitchen and no coffee. He stumbled sulkily to Jack's office to find he'd worked through the night, looked like the risen dead, and had no idea what time it was. Gabriel ordered Jack into the cot in the corner of his office, where he immediately passed out. When Jack woke up, Gabriel had left a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water on his desk. The jelly was strawberry and the message was clear: "take care of yourself, dumbass, because I care about you". Jack felt extremely guilty that he'd let Gabriel down to the point that Gabe had to shoulder the caretaker responsibility, but he was also touched that Gabe cared about him that much.  
  
The next time Jack was working late, Gabriel came armed with strawberry cheesecake. He sat on the corner of Jack's desk, feeding him spoonfuls of cheesecake until the sweet and tangy flavors pulled Jack's mind out of his work and then Gabriel shooed him off to bed, refusing to go himself until Jack had gone. Phrases like "If you work much later, I won't get enough sleep" and "I make bad decisions when I'm cranky" got used as leverage. Jack wouldn't go to bed for himself, but he'd go to bed for Gabriel.  
  
Pizza night became a sacred weekly commitment, with Jack and Gabriel carrying plates of pizza to one of their rooms and watching movies or playing video games. The tradition of Gabe's post-pizza groan and declaration of intent to marry continued as well, with Jack pointing out the reasons they couldn't marry.  
     "I'm going to marry you for your pizza, Strike-Commander Morrison."  
     "Can't. The UN would never allow it. I'd have to fire you."  
     "...but it would be _worth_ it."  
     "You wouldn't have clearance anymore, Gabe. You'd only see me after hours and on the weekends."  
     (Gabriel frowns)  
     "I'd have to resign so I would have time to cook, and then you'd have to take over as head of Overwatch."  
     (After Winston's arrival) "Let Winston take over all that monkey business and we can retire happily. Together. Just you and me and your pizza."  
  
Anyone who came into the officer's kitchen/mess hall (which was basically a giant, homey kitchen built to Jack's domestic fantasy specifications, with a huge round wooden table and chairs for a dozen) while Jack was cooking got breakfast, and at least once or twice a week evening reports/briefings were done while Jack cooked, and then everyone had dinner. As far as Jack was concerned, Overwatch was his family and he did his best for them. He made cakes and cupcakes for birthdays whenever he could, especially for Fareeha. Anyone who came back from a mission wounded got fussed over, with Jack sometimes doing first aid before the agent got to Medical. Gabriel in particular revived a running joke from the military about Jack kissing wounds to make them better, and Jack countered by actually kissing them when Gabe made the joke. Among the other agents, the joke ran that you weren't really a part of Overwatch until you'd called the Strike-Commander "Mr. Mom". Jack tended to remind them to be safe before they went out, same as he'd done in the military, because he _knew_ that every mission could be their last. "Stay safe, because I like being alive at the same time as you." Not all of them appreciated his concern, but Jack assured them they could hate him for it with phrases like  'As long as you're alive to hate me, I'm good with that.' or 'You're alive, that's all I wanted.'  
  
At some point, Jack picked up a fluency in Spanish. Although he and Gabriel no longer got "SEP cravings", they still remained receptive to learning things related to a past craving. So Jack gave in and learned Spanish, but didn't let on that he knew it. Most meetings, he didn't require a translator but everyone knew what languages he understood and he didn't have the advantage of the other party saying things they thought he couldn't understand. Gabriel functioned as his translator for any meeting where Spanish was being spoken, and he treasured this unguarded glimpse of his friend.  
  
At some point early on, probably a year after Overwatch's founding, there was a massive meeting with representatives from at least two dozen countries. It lasted something like six hours. Four hours in, Jack realized that following conversations in the dozen languages he knew, not to mention his brain trying to piece together the ones he didn't, was putting a familiar strain on his brain. He quietly told Gabriel he was going to have a language migraine by the end. Ana was confused, but Gabe promised to explain later and assured Jack he had everything covered. When the meeting ended, Jack was already in pain. Gabriel and Ana escorted him wordlessly out of the room and away from the press, who were being kept back by other Overwatch agents who assured them that the Strike-Commander would do a press conference the next day, but any news outlet who bothered him today would be excluded. More agents cleared the halls in advance, and Jack made it to his room with only his own thoughts causing him pain. He put on the recording of Gabriel playing piano and gratefully fell asleep. When he woke up in the morning, it was to Gabriel bringing him breakfast - including a Belgian waffle loaded with strawberries and whipped cream. His reflexive "I love you. Marry me" caused Gabriel to bluescreen, but Jack didn't notice because he was devouring strawberries. His explanation to the press that he needed to mull over what had been discussed went over just fine, and precedent was set.  
  
One of the duties of the Strike-Commander was public relations and appearances. While this meant meeting with diplomats and dignitaries, it also meant Jack was allowed and encouraged to choose events to attend. Plays and concerts, sports events and fancy restaurants were the sort of things he was expected to partake in. But there's always going to be those hopeful kids who are stubborn enough to ignore parents and teachers trying to talk them out of writing fan letters and asking public figures to come to their fundraising cookout or birthday party or whatnot, and Jack LOVED those. If he couldn't attend, he wrote back a letter explaining that he was needed to do something else already on that day, but he made sure to get the child's birthday and sent them a card and a Christmas card. If he could attend, he did his best to go above and beyond.  
  
Girl Scout troop doing a gift-wrapping weekend in the mall raising funds and collecting gifts for Toys for Tots (or kids in the hospital, or orphanage, or just needy families)? Jack is SO there, not only bringing a pile of unwrapped presents but doing a full shift at the wrapping table. Wrap your gift, $2 each. Don't have one? He'll wrap one from the pile. For an extra $5 he'll hand-write the tag and let you take a selfie. And when the adults try to protest that he doesn't have to wrap gifts, he counters that he's a skilled wrapper, and it would be a waste to not put his skills to use. _And_ he'll have 20 pizzas and a bunch of diet soda delivered so everyone can have lunch.  
  
Children's theater troupe holding a fund-raising cookout to finance their next production? Jack will show up with cases of burgers, hot dogs, and their buns. He'll also _man the grill_. Then, once all the meat has been cooked, he'll go back to his van and bring out the trays and trays of cupcakes he baked for surprise dessert. Did he make them all himself? Well, he baked them, but Captain Amari and her daughter helped him frost them. $10 all-you-can-eat burgers and dogs cooked by Strike-Commander Jack Morrison, with a cupcake for dessert. Come and get it!  
  
As head of Overwatch, where he not only could but was _expected_ to Do A Lot Of Good, he bloomed into a confident, happy, cheerful ray of sunshine and a charismatic leader. Naturally, there were always people who wanted to rage against the machine or distrust authority figures or who just couldn't believe that Jack wasn't putting on an act. But Jack never got angry, never lost his temper, and really _was_ that genuinely nice and it was exceedingly difficult to hate him if you'd met him. Having a leader who was so charismatic and still down-to-earth really helped Overwatch's reputation in the early founding years. The fact that he spoke half of the most-used languages in the world and did as many announcements in other languages as he could helped as well. (Eventually, all the core Overwatch members developed fluency in Swiss German, but Gabriel pretended to only know English unless he was in Zurich.)  
  
Naturally, everyone wanted to know all the details about Jack the golden boy. Reporters flocked to his hometown where people were only too glad to spill the beans. ("Do I remember Jack Morrison? Of course, poor bastard always looked like he hadn't slept in a week. He had to do everything around the house for himself 'cuz his dad was a drunk sunnovabitch. Surprised he didn't get fired. So Jack had to raise little Maddie all by himself while still being a child. Shame what happened to her, she was a good kid...") Jack's dad got no posthumous glory. His mom was treated like a saint, but she died of cancer so long ago that no one really remembered anything bad about her that was worth speaking ill of the dead. The fact that Jack Morrison had an alcoholic father and thus, didn't drink, was just rolled into his Tragic And Noble Backstory. A rookie reporter went to Gabriel to try to get the inside scoop on Jack, and Gabe trolled the fuck out of him, spinning tall tales just to see how much of it he would believe and how outrageous things had to get before the reporter would realize Gabe was yanking his chain. He swallowed it all, hook, line, and sinker, but his editor laughed at him and the only place that would buy his story was a tabloid. Jack laughed until it hurt reading that story and kept a copy of it in his safe-deposit box.  
  
With all the responsibilities of his position, Gabriel got very good at reading how stressed out Jack was. There were a lot of demands ("requests") made of Overwatch, and of course Jack never got better about saying no. He was able to mitigate this to an extent because he wouldn't ask Overwatch agents to stretch themselves too thin, and eventually he was able to see himself as an asset and control demands on his time that way, but it took a few years. The fact that Jack was being pulled in several directions at any time grated on Gabriel, so he did everything he could to keep Jack stable. When Jack got stressed to the point of walling away, at around ten at night Gabriel would drag him into the officer's mess (his big dream kitchen) and sit him down for a root beer float. If things weren't too bad, Jack would sip it and tell Gabe what was going on. If he was too walled away to do that, Gabriel would poke his forehead and Jack would faceplant into Gabe's shoulder for a bit of symbolically having someone to lean on before opening up, with Gabe draping his arm around Jack's shoulders in something between reassurance and physically laying claim to Jack. A major sign of Jack being stressed was that when he had no emotional spoons left, _all_ his emotional reactions turned into irritation and annoyance. Even being presented with strawberries in some form got annoyance until he got enough strawberries inside him, at which point Gabe dragged him off for a root beer float.  
  
With finally being in a position where they had both the time to potentially explore a deeper relationship and no one who could summarily fire one or both of them for it, they both started wrestling with the question of how to go from a years-long pattern of joking intimacy to expressing that it's not really a joke. Neither of them were really sure how to go about it, especially since Jack had never expressed romantic or sexual interest in anyone and Gabriel had been doing his absolute best impression of a Perfectly Straight Guy for years. So they both just started escalating their joking intimacy and insincere flirtations, hoping the other would give some hint as to whether the idea was welcome or not while not letting on what their true intentions were. Combined with how closely they worked together, this led to them referring to the other as their 'work husband'. "I need to talk to my work husband about that." "I have a meeting with my work husband later." Gabriel was the first one to push their lack of personal space to the point of laying down with his head in Jack's lap, looking for a reaction, but Jack acted like this was Perfectly Normal because he didn't want to discourage it from happening again. It turned into a regular thing; they'd hold entire conversations, including briefings and reports, with Jack sitting on a couch and Gabriel sprawled in his lap. When the weather was nice, they did that outside under a tree - full mission reports, intel briefings, you name it, with Gabriel's head in Jack's lap and neither of them acting like this was anything out of the ordinary. About a third of the time, it would be Jack sprawled out with his head in Gabe's lap, and that typically resulted in him getting his hair petted, which was just fine with him.  
  
It also led to people who witnessed this display of no personal space for the first time quietly asking someone else for clarification.  
     "Is there something I should know about the Commanders?"  
     "Nah, they're just like that."  
     "They're not...?"  
     "Nope, they just do things like that."  
This was in no way helped by the fact that Gabriel continued to the "Jack, that's [language]" and kissing up the arm any time Jack spoke a non-English language - unless there were international bigwigs present. Jack pretended nothing was happening, to the confusion of witnesses who typically had no idea how they were supposed to react to this while Gabriel went "*kisskisskisskiss* Wait, what language is that?" or complained that he was going to have to design Jack a short-sleeved jacket.  
  
Gabriel's issues being what they are, he occasionally had fits of acting out towards Jack in an ultimately futile attempt to push Jack away or "prove" that he didn't deserve Jack's friendship. Jack bore these with stoic patience and acting like nothing was wrong, and Gabe gave it up fairly quickly. Strawberries were usually procured in apology, with Gabriel asking Jack 'why do you put up with me?' Jack's answer was to quip 'compared to my dad, you're an angel'. That tended to get him mock-punched for the pun on Gabriel's name. The first time it happened, they went into an in-depth discussion about Biblical descriptions of angels and how terrifying and badass they were. Jack finished with '...like I said, you're an angel' and Gabe made stranglie motions at him, which only ensured that it became an established pattern. Another pattern they developed was related to Jack technically being Gabriel's boss. Any time Jack left to go somewhere without Gabriel, Gabe would smarm 'but what if I need you?' just to be a pain because they both knew that Gabriel was the one _actually_ in charge, they just acted like Jack was. This pattern may also have been Gabriel expressing displeasure with being separated from his work husband for any length of time. A third pattern, this one with its roots in the military, was calling Jack a Boy Scout for his selfless altruism, familiarity with the outdoors, and all-around Lawful Good over-achiever naivete. The joke, of course, is that Jack was never actually a Boy Scout. He didn't have the time.  
  
As expected, the high school that Jack went to renamed itself to Jack D. Morrison High School and invited Jack to come speak to the student body. Jack made...plans...and accepted, bringing Gabriel with him both because of the plan and for wanting Gabe to see where he came from. They got in a day or two before they were supposed to be there and Jack drove him through the town, giving running commentary. They went to the graveyard and put an absolutely huge, expensive bouquet on Maddie's grave. While Jack was quietly apologizing to his sister for not standing up to their father and blaming himself for not being able to change an alcoholic's habits and thus, for the crash, Gabriel unzipped his fly and interrupted Jack's self-recriminations by pissing on his father's grave. Not on the soil - on the headstone itself, covering Jack's father's name with urine. When he was done, he angrily informed Jack that his dad was a dick and had abused him Jack was in no way at fault for anything. That was at odds with the way Jack had been raised to think, and Gabriel wound up driving Jack to the next town over where they sat in a little diner with Jack sipping a root beer float.  
  
The school administration, bring painfully aware that Jack had been mocked at this very school for "feminine" activities, asked Jack to talk to the students about acceptance and bullying. Jack agreed, and he started off normally: 'blah blah I got picked on because I baked cupcakes for my sister's birthday, but cooking is a valuable life skill and there's nothing wrong with doing something you love as long as it's not hurting anyone, and no one can tell you it's wrong to like something (as long as it's not hurting anyone), blah blah have the strength to not be ashamed of what you like and don't judge someone for what they like'. Then he used himself as an example, pointing out that he fought in the military and in the Omnic Crisis and was generally considered the pinnacle of manliness, but that honor really belonged to his former CO, Commander Reyes, and gestured over to the side of the stage where Gabe was standing with the school administration. Then Jack called for volunteers to join him on stage for an exercise in not being ashamed. He got about a dozen kids on stage with him and announced that they were going to do something that they'd be too embarrassed to do otherwise, but it would be okay because he was doing it and they were just following his lead and if Strike-Commander Morrison was doing it then it was really okay, right? Then he shouted HIT IT, GABE! and tore off his specially-prepared breakaway suit and proudly stood there in calf-high leather boots and a skirt/crop top combination that matched his eyes. The skirt would have been fetish fuel on a girl, with its jagged hem and wide band of glittery gauze. The crop top was 85% gauzy ruffles and 15% glitter, and as this sank in, the music started playing.  
  
High-energy, with a rapid beat and electrosynth instrumentals, Dream's 'Night of Fire' filled the auditorium and Jack burst into exactly the sort of dance his outfit suggested. The kids laughed for a couple of bars, the ones onstage covering their faces, but the beat was really addictive and it wasn't long before they joined in, emulating Jack's moves and bouncing hips and shouting NIGHT! OF! FIRE!! along with the chorus. The school administration tried to hide their dismay at having been taken by surprise this way while Gabriel stood calmly with hands clasped in front of him, just admiring his work husband dancing in his handiwork and trying not to let that...appreciation...show. When the song ended, the kids onstage high off of _dancing with Jack Morrison_ , Jack shouted NOW WHO ELSE WANTS TO GIVE IT A TRY?? and the auditorium turned into a dance party. When the kids got tired, they discovered Gabriel had gone out to the van and brought back trays of cupcakes and Jack explained that Gabriel had sewed his costume because he loves costuming and he helped frost the cupcakes Jack had baked and if the two arguably manliest men in the world weren't ashamed of cooking and sewing, then maybe anyone mocking someone for that kind of activity was the one with the problem and they should take a look inside themselves and ask why they felt threatened by someone enjoying a harmless activity. The entire thing turned into a frontal assault on the Patriarchy and gender roles, with the school administration helpless to do anything but smile stiffly.  
  
Just to drive the point home, Jack did a series of anti-bullying and alcohol abuse awareness PSAs, talking about how he had to learn to cook and sew to take care of himself and his little sister because his alcoholic father would rather drink than be a parent and sharing the story of how it felt when he realized _why_ there so many glass bottles with 'his name' on them all over the house. After that, any time he crossed paths with what we would call "NO HOMO dudebros" he made it a point to turn their toxic masculinity against them because hell, if Jack Morrison does it, then it MUST be manly, right? So if a guy's not comfortable with it, then maybe the problem is he's not enough of a man, right? He was equally unamused by anyone expressing anti-queer sentiments and turned it around onto the bigot expressing them, firmly and unequivocally expressing support for people who weren't cis or straight, whether that was being trans, nonbinary, agender, asexual, homosexual, pansexual, or anything else. His favorite way to shut down anti-gay talk was just to wait for the bigot to get through their talk, nodding and making little neutral sounds, and then just say "What makes you think _I'm_ not gay?" His other go-to was a simple "why do you care?" and then shutting down the bigoted reasoning with "are they hurting you by being the way they are? no? Then _why do you care?_ Leave them alone and go bother someone who's actively hurting others."  
  
When Gabriel cleaned out Deadlock and found himself faced with Jesse McCree, the conversation with Jack went roughly as follows:  
     "Jack, I'm recruiting one of the Deadlock prisoners."  
     "Gabriel-"  
     "He reminds me of you in basic."  
     "He's our new son. What's his name?"  
Jesse was brought in restraints to Zurich and then let loose and kept in a room that wasn't exactly a cell, but it was too Spartan to be living quarters. Dinner was something quick and simple, a plain turkey sandwich and some water maybe, but when he woke up it was to a full country breakfast. Ham, eggs, homefries, bacon, damn good biscuits with butter, milk, and orange juice. He quietly freaked out internally because what was the catch? Was this his last meal?? But a few days passed and no one came for him. Lunch and dinner were plain and boring, but breakfast was always hot, full country breakfast and it was confusing the hell out of him. When the rest of the Deadlock prisoners had been sorted and Jesse's legal existence had been worked out, Gabriel made him the "jail or work for me" offer and he accepted because what the fuck, this was better than he'd get anywhere else. When he came face to face with Jack, who looked _happy_ to see him and informed him that he'd been making those hotel-quality breakfasts, Jesse had no idea how to react because this level of kindness and acceptance _from the head of Overwatch, what the fuck_ was something he was emotionally unprepared for but wanted more of. Being forcibly invited to movie night so he could bond with his new 'parents' and given the freedom to pick toppings and movie was almost too much for him to deal with.  
  
Jack periodically reminded Jesse that if he needed to talk and wasn't comfortable talking to Gabriel, he would _make_ time for Jesse and listen without judging. Also he would bake cookies, if Jesse wanted, but Jack knew what it was like to live in a shitty situation where no one cares about _you_ or what _you_ want. And how hard it was to go from that to believing that someone _cared_ about you, but Jesse can trust Commander Reyes to care about him because he was the first one Jack trusted to give a fuck about _him_ since he was seven. Jack promised Jesse that no matter what he did, he would never get angry. Annoyed, irritated, disappointed, but never angry because nothing was worth risking one of them dying with anger between them. And he knows what it's like to need to talk to someone who's not your CO, so if Jesse ever needed to talk and couldn't or didn't want to go to Gabe for it, he could come to Jack at any time. Naturally, Jesse didn't really believe that the freaking Strike-Commander would make time in his important schedule for one scruffy cowboy, and when he did have something he needed to talk to Jack about, he slipped very nervously into Jack's office and nearly slipped back out because Jack was on the phone with someone, but Jack met his eyes and almost mid-word went "Sir, I'm going to need to pick this back up with you later, something's just come up that needs my immediate attention." and ended the call. After that, it sank in to Jesse that he _was_ family, and he started showing up in the officer's mess for Jack-made breakfast.  
  
As has been stated, Jack loves strawberry. But living in Europe, it's a lot harder to get his favorite strawberry soda. When he gets some imported, he puts _most_ of the bottles in the fridge but sticks one in the freezer, on its side, to cool down quicker without watering it down with ice. Invariably, however, he leaves it in too long and when he opens it, the liquid in the neck has frozen into a cork. As soon as Jack twists the cap halfway off, there's a loud _pop_ and the built-up carbonation escapes in a bubbly rush similar to champagne fountaining all over. And every single time, no matter how many times it had happened before, Jack always stood there dripping and in shock with an expression of I DID NOT IN ANY WAY EXPECT THIS REACTION while Gabriel leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, laughing until it hurt. Once he'd caught his breath, Gabe "helped" Jack clean up by licking the soda off of every portion of his exposed skin. The first time Ana came running because she heard a POP and found Gabe licking soda off of Jack's face, it didn't even faze her. She was used to their shenanigans. The first time Winston witnessed it, he made a joke about thinking it was HIS branch of the family tree that did grooming like that, to which Gabriel quipped "sorry, this one's mine, I licked it." Once Gabriel was done, Jack put his soda back in the fridge and excused himself to go take a shower while he still had at least two shreds of dignity left. He may or may not have spent extra time contemplating Gabe licking him. (He totally did.)  
  
The joking intimacy and insincere flirtations escalated to the point of being a years-long game of Gay Chicken as both Jack and Gabe kept pushing the envelope to see who would back down first. Sometimes the flirtations were exhibitionist - Gabriel pretending to fellatiate a particularly phallic food while giving Jack knowing looks, or Jack stealing the celery (which Gabe doesn't eat) out of Gabriel's cocktail and deep-throating it before casually eating it. Sometimes they were overtly sexual dares, like the time Ana walked in on Gabriel humping Jack's leg while Jack stirred cake batter. If Jack made it to the half hour mark without reacting, or if Gabriel failed to keep humping for the full half hour, Gabe would have to wear a dress. Otherwise, it would be Jack in the dress. Ana, being well and truly jaded by that point, just shrugged and walked out. Another incident was Reinhardt entering the kitchen because he smelled cookies, and discovering that the Strike-Commander was indeed taking a batch of cookies out of the oven, but the apron was all he was wearing aside from one mitt-shaped potholder. Commander Reyes was leaning comfortably against the counter wearing nothing but the other mitt. They'd been having an escalating nudity dare. Gabe dared Jack to shake 'hands', and Jack 'shook' the mitt Gabe was wearing with the one he was wearing and Reinhardt warily accepted a plate of cookies and fled.  
  
About half the time, however, their conversations were rife with sexual innuendos. For example, the simple act of constructing a strawberry cream layer cake invariably spawned comments or reactions like this with regards to the whipped cream:  
     "The only cream I whip is my own."  
     "Okay, but I'm not sure I can provide a full cup." "If you add anything _extra_ to this bowl, you're eating the whole thing."  
     "I thought it was BEATING the cream."  
     "So THAT'S what you call it?"  
     "I thought you were good at doing that by hand."  
     "Okay, now add half a teaspoon of vanilla."  *Gabe reaches for Jack's pants* "...Gabe..."  "What? Aren't you pretty vanilla?"  
     "Hold up, I need to add the sugar." "I thought we weren't jerking off into the bowl." "That's not - what?" *Gabriel smirking* "You're not going to give the bowl some sugar?"  
  
When the head chef presented Jack with the proposed menu for some event Overwatch was hosting and Jack saw eclairs on the menu, he informed her that he would prepare the eclairs himself. She asked if he was sure, because they needed _four hundred_ , and he informed her that he was aware.  
     "You're going to make four hundred eclairs by yourself?"  
     "Good point. Get me Reyes."  
Gabriel walked into the kitchen, saw the unholy glee on Jack's face and the utensils and ingredients set out, and just exclaimed NOT AGAIN! while Jack laughed. When they were finally done, they had 500 and Jack weeded out the worst 100.  
     "You made five hundred."  
     "Yep."  
     "We only need four hundred, what are the others for?"  
     "Eating. Don't you and your staff deserve something good for all your hard work?"  
     "Strike-Commander Morrison wants you to eat his eclair."  
     "Shut up and put my long, cream-filled pastry in your mouth, Reyes."  
If the head chef had harbored any doubts about Jack's skills in the kitchen, the ability to cheerfully turn out 400 perfect eclairs put them to rest.  
  
With Blackwatch being under the table and as independent as Jack and Gabriel could make it, there were a _lot_ of things Gabriel did that Jack had no knowledge of. If Jack didn't _know_ that Gabriel had created a mercenary persona named Reaper who constantly wore an owl-skull mask, he wouldn't have to tell Gabe to stop using that particular method of gathering intel (and funds) and taking out targets the law couldn't reach. If he didn't know that Gabe was the world champion of the high-stakes underworld poker ring, amassing vast amounts of illegal wealth and extorting favors and information along the way, then he didn't have to tell Gabe to knock it off before Petras found out. Those were exactly the sort of things the head of Blackwatch _should_ be doing in order to curtail threats before they reached public knowledge, but Overwatch was bound by international regulations and Jack's hands were tied with red tape. Gabriel went on countless mysterious missions, vanishing for as little as a few hours to as much as two weeks while Jack quietly hoped his work husband would come back safely, and there were many occasions where pizza night got rescheduled to the day Gabe got back. Of course, not everything Gabriel was up to was dangerous or illegal. He established a luxury residence in his home city of Los Angeles and a comfortable townhouse in Zurich, both under the name of Michael King. While furnishing the townhouse, he found himself picking things Jack would like, or that Jack would find comforting. Whether or not he admitted it to himself, he was building a love nest to share with Jack. Once it was fully furnished, however, he only visited it when sexual frustration was getting the better of him. Most of the time, he picked someone up and brought them back to fuck. More rarely, he went there to drink and recover without the guilt of Jack fussing over him. Not that that lessened the guilt any.  
  
Inevitably, the long-running game of Gay Chicken reached the point where there was nowhere to go but to bed. It was phrased casually enough - 'we may as well try it, see if we click' - but both of them were beside themselves with the anxious, hopeful knowledge that this was it, they'd finally be able to see how the other felt. They agreed to meet in Gabriel's room because no one was dumb enough to wake Commander Reyes except the Strike-Commander, and they didn't want anyone to know what they were doing. Jack self-consciously told Gabriel that he had no experience, and Gabe reassured him that he'd take the lead and teach Jack everything. That night was everything Jack had ever hoped for, the fulfillment of all his fantasies, and he did his best (short of actually saying the words) to make sure Gabriel knew that Jack loved him. Gabriel was doing the same thing, reveling in being able to teach the object of his affection how to express that physically, making sure his first sexual experience was perfect. Jack fell asleep cuddled up to Gabriel in utter contentment, and Gabriel held him close as he drifted off as well. For a wonder, Gabriel woke up first and while admiring his sleeping lover and toying with how he'd suggest they get into an actual relationship, he fingered the dog tags Jack hadn't taken off and saw his name on the bottom one. The implication was immediately clear: Jack loved him every bit as deeply as he loved Jack. Unfortunately, Gabriel's issues and insecurities were hot on the heels of that realization. He was prepared to seduce Jack into loving him; he wasn't prepared for the devotion implicit in Jack _wearing his dog tag_. Furthermore, how long had Jack been doing that? How long had he loved Gabe? And, whispered his self-worth issues, how long had he been fucking it up?  
  
When Jack woke up, still on an emotional high from having consummated his love the night before, he asked Gabe what he thought - if they clicked. Gabriel lied and said no out of a panicked reflex to keep away all potential threats while he was emotionally vulnerable. He regretted it as the joy drained out of Jack, but Jack otherwise seemed to take it well and asked if they'd go back to what they'd been doing, then, since they didn't click. Gabriel agreed, and they dressed and went about their respective days as if nothing had happened. The next day, Gabriel informed Jack he was going on a short mission, just a day or two, and Jack ritually wished him well and told him to come back safely. Gabriel went to his townhouse and got drunk. While drunk, he went and bought a pair of men's gold wedding bands. Then he got _more_ drunk and convinced himself that even if Jack forgave his dumb ass for lying, he wouldn't want a mess like him for a husband anyway, and he hid the rings. He returned to the HQ looking like shit because of how hung over he was, and Jack immediately assumed (out loud, anyway) that he was sick and put him to bed before making chicken soup and fussing over him. That only made Gabe feel more guilty. He'd intended to apologize to Jack at the first opportunity, the first hint of awkwardness or hesitation, to say 'you know, after thinking about it, I take it back, the answer is yes'. But Jack carried on like it had never happened and Gabriel never got up the courage to bring it up himself because what if he'd already blown his chance?  
  
With both of them secretly heartbroken, it was a few days before either of them felt up to their usual banter. One evening, Gabriel leaned against the doorframe to Jack's office and asked if he was only into dudes, or if he was...flexible. Startled and uncertain, Jack answered that he guessed he was flexible. Gabriel started setting him up on dates made through matchmaking sites and apps, frequently only telling Jack he had a date at the last second so he couldn't get out of it. Part of Gabriel's reasoning was that Jack deserved someone better than him. Part of it was hoping that Jack would come back from a date confessing that what he _really_ wanted to do was date Gabe. And, of course, part of it was tormenting himself by pushing Jack away. Jack endured the dates patiently, telling the often-surprised man or woman that his friend had set him up and he wasn't really looking for a relationship. Sometimes - usually with women - he confessed that there was someone he liked but it hadn't worked out and he was still hung up on them. Sometimes he just confessed that there was someone else he liked. He still had dinner and paid for it, chatted and had a friendly evening, and more often than not bonded with his sympathetic date and did his best to help with any personal problems they might be having.   
  
Around the same time, Gabriel started bringing hard liquor to his office and getting drunk late at night, either out of self-punishment or out of drowning his sexual frustration until he physically couldn't act on it. Jack started checking on Gabriel if it got late and Gabriel hadn't checked on him, putting him to bed on a cot in his office if he was too drunk to make it easily back to his room, making him drink water and leaving more water and some painkillers in easy reach. And always, bringing a hangover-safe breakfast to Gabe the next morning. He learned that he was most likely to get set up on a date after Gabriel had gotten drunk, or after he'd said anything that started with 'you deserve someone who'. Sometimes, Gabe told Jack to stop wasting his time fussing over Gabe, that he should get a boyfriend who would appreciate it. Sometimes he pointedly browsed personal ads or dating sites or matchmaking apps looking for 'good men', but he quickly wound up getting _ridiculously_ offended by some aspect of any promising match as an excuse to reject them. And in between these fits of self-destructive behavior, they went back to their usual "are you sure they're not _actually_ married" flirting and complete comfort with a lack of personal space.  
  
Once, at the end of a meal with no one else present, Gabriel leaned over out of the blue and kissed Jack on the lips. Then he stood and, laughing at Jack's expression, walked out. Jack was off-balance for a day or two, wondering if Gabriel had really meant that kiss and if he knew Jack had feelings and convincing himself that it had been just a joke. What he didn't know was that Gabriel had momentarily lost control over his impulses and forced himself to laugh and walk off because if he didn't, he would have just sat there kissing Jack. The rest of the week, Gabe periodically just said 'hey Jack' and gave him an 'I'm gonna kiss you and you're gonna melt down' smirk. Jack got his revenge, though - as Gabriel was about to go into a high-level meeting, Jack stopped him with a 'hold up, you've got something on your...' and then while Gabriel held still so Jack could remove whatever hair or thread of piece of lint Gabe assumed was there, Jack kissed him just under and behind his ear before cheerfully announcing 'okay, you're good now' and walking off. It was a long minute before Gabriel regained enough composure to go into his meeting.  
  
Jack's preferred workout music is the bubbly, high-energy j-pop he picked up from his sister. One of the things he does to relax is to run on a treadmill, but he figures he may as well make it a full workout and grabs some freeweights so he can work his arms while he runs. Most of the time, he does normal arm exercises in time with the music he's running to the beat of, but years ago at his sister's insistence he'd memorized Hinoi Team's choreography for Night Of Fire and when that song came on, he couldn't help but honor her memory by replicating it. The moves were understandably at odds with both his physical appearance and the stoic, almost grim look of determination he tended to wear while running. Jesse McCree thought it was hilarious. He positioned a camera where it could take unimpeded video of Jack running and retrieved it later, then uploaded the 'Night Of Fire' section to the internet. It went viral and became a meme, with people photoshopping in various things for Jack to be running from, or chasing, or scenes for him to dance in, or objects to wave around. Variants include dual-wielding lightsabers in a Star Wars battle, running from a plane that's landing as he waves guidance batons, and being _really excited_ about giant corndogs in a carnival riot. When Jack found out who was responsible for the footage getting out, his only 'punishment' for Jesse was that he had to find all the different permutations and forward them to Jack so Jack could laugh at them. He made a montage out of all of them and watched it when he needed a laugh.  
  
With all the different nationalities at Overwatch, April Fools jokes aren't very common. Jack laid down ground rules that any pranks had to be harmless and cleaned up by the one doing the pranking, and he himself rarely pulls anything. But when he does, it's super-effective because it's unexpected. One year, he secretly developed a sweet noodle and a strawberry sauce that looked like marinara and served everyone else spaghetti and meatballs with marinara sauce...but then served himself what _looked_ like spaghetti and marinara and topped it with crumbled Oreos and whipped cream and sprinkles. The reactions of everyone at the table were _priceless_.  
  
Although they didn't have a whole lot of easy access to most things in SEP, Gabriel continued the tradition of taking Jack out for Indian food on his birthday and making no more fuss than that. Jack, for his part, couldn't do much in SEP, but Gabriel didn't want a fuss made, either. So late at night on November 28th, he baked Gabriel a chocolate cake for his birthday and snuck it into his room on the morning of the 29th. Once they were settled into Overwatch, however, Jack started quietly celebrating Gabriel's birthday by not only leaving him a small chocolate cake, but also a small wrapped gift and a 375ml bottle of a nice liquor. No card, no note, no witnesses, no fuss. That way, Gabriel can enjoy being discreetly fussed over in peace. Usually, a slightly-tipsy Gabriel will wander into Jack's room later looking for the second cake he knows Jack will have waiting for him and, although he won't admit it, for the comfort of Jack's company. Come June 14th, Gabriel takes Jack to a restaurant as per tradition. If there's someplace new and exotic, he takes Jack there. If not, there's a good Indian place that Jack likes, and the familiarity is comforting. He also gifts Jack with a recording of something instrumental, usually orchestral, because he knows Jack finds instrumental music to be soothing.  
  
In one particularly tense year, Jack was being pulled in multiple directions as per usual but they were all important things and he was getting overworked. Unacceptably, in Gabriel's opinion. He was barely sleeping, he wasn't cooking even for himself, and the Commander of Blackwatch was ready to go on the warpath...so he initiated an unscheduled joint Overwatch/Blackwatch training drill. It was basically 'capture the flag', only the 'flag' was Jack so for Overwatch it was 'rescue the hostage' and for Blackwatch, 'keep your prisoner'. Gabriel brought Jack a mug of drugged coffee, waited for it to take effect, and then carried his exhausted work husband off. Jack woke up in the depths of a Blackwatch facility, with a smirking Gabriel offering him coffee and strawberry Toaster Strudels, and realized he'd been kidnapped. He stretched, looked around, and looked at Gabe.  
     "Did you drug me?"  
     "*smirking* Yes, sir."  
     "Well, I feel better than I have all week."  
     "That's because you _actually slept_."  
When Jack realized he was effectively incommunicado until Overwatch 'rescued' him and thus, effectively on vacation, he reflexively blurted "I could kiss you" to Gabriel, who smirked and countered with, "In front of the children?" Jack blushed and backed down, but he did enjoy having no responsibilities past cooking for the Blackwatch agents. Ana and Reinhardt jointly took over his duties, both sides got a good training experience, and Gabriel got the cookies and biscuits he'd been missing...not to mention the satisfaction of seeing his work husband laughing again. When Jack was finally reinstated, he immediately discussed delegation with Ana and Reinhardt to make sure things didn't get that bad again.  
  
Remember that "Jack running and waving things" meme? The first time Genji met with the Strike-Commander, he was barely patched up and high on painkillers and when Jack introduced himself, he stared at Jack for a long moment and then whispered, "...night of fire..." which naturally caused Jack to blush and hope no one else heard that. Jack tried to bring up the idea of Genji joining Overwatch, and in his drugged-up haze, Genji agreed to join on the condition that Jack do the Night of Fire dance for him. Jack joked that he did still have the costume, prompting Angela to protest that Genji had too many painkillers in his system to really be aware of what he was agreeing to, and couldn't be held to that agreement. Once Genji was more sober, however, he refused to give an answer until he'd seen Jack dance, which naturally he did. Jack fussed over Genji while he was healing, often slipping into Japanese because it was easier for Genji to admit to things in his native language, which prompted Genji to find a reasonable translation for "Mr. Mom". He settled on "otou-ka-san". Once he was able to gently go to the athletics facility and test out his body, he started giving Jack pointed looks at some of the j-pop he listened to and even _more_ pointed looks at the gentler j-pop he played when he was doing non-running exercises because _that sure was a lot of songs about unrequited love_. And if Gabriel was in the gym as well, Genji noticed that the most poignant lines got Jack looking at his work husband. Genji once asked tactfully, in Japanese, if there was a reason for that. Jack sidestepped in such a way that he obliquely confirmed Genji's suspicions but also communicated that it was better to not bring it up.  
  
The day Ana was lost was one of the hardest Jack's ever lived through. She was one of his oldest friends, and Fareeha was like a daughter to him. That she'd refused to evacuate didn't ease any of his guilt or pain or make it any easier to break the news to her daughter. He walled himself away severely in order to complete the mission and make it back to HQ, but Fareeha hugging him in shared grief broke some of the walls and they cried together. Gabriel found him later, in the same room, unable to muster the will to stand up and walk back to his quarters. It was a long handful of hours hugging his work husband, letting him cry, before Gabriel could get him into his bed. There may have been betrayal by sedative involved. Although Jack was up and performing his duties the next day, everyone could see his grief in the grimness of his expression, the tiredness in his voice, and the way the light seemed to have gone out of him. It was days before he started responding again to Gabriel's jokes and flirtations, and although the light eventually came back as he walled his grief away the same way he'd walled away the grief for his little sister, it was never quite as bright.  
  
The months leading up to the end were tense, stressful, and Gabriel was beside himself trying to keep Jack from completely retreating inside himself. Root beer floats became a nearly nightly occurrence, and Gabe did everything he could to help and support his work husband both personally and in his official capacity, but it was barely enough to keep things from getting _much_ worse, forget actually making anything _better_.

 

* * *

The end of Overwatch

* * *

 

As soon as Blizzard tells us what the fuck happened, I'll incorporate it. As things stand, we start with explosions and an armed invasion force. Jack was making his way down a partially-lit corridor, trying to get away from fire and smoke, when the figure blocking the hall several yards away resolved into Gabriel. He had his shotguns drawn and was glaring, teeth bared, at Jack as if he were the absolute scum of the Earth and it was Gabriel's holy duty to cleanse him from the planet. Jack hesitated, confused and afraid, and Gabriel fired. The shot went wide, clipping him in the side, and then another explosion knocked Gabriel into the wall and Jack off his feet. Jack crawled down the hall to his work husband's body, but there was no pulse. Gabriel was dead. Now heartbroken with the loss of everyone and everything he'd cared about, Jack made his way to his office (which was in an area that was still untouched) and took off his Strike-Commander's jacket. It was damaged, torn and singed and bloody. He folded it neatly and placed it on his desk. Then he pulled up the picture he stared at so often - himself, Gabe, and Ana - and using his own blood, blotted out all three of their faces as a message that all three of them were dead. The jacket served as a sign that he was alive, and had left of his own volition. Jack made his way out of the ruined HQ, bought as much Jack Daniels as he could carry, and found an abandoned building to hole up in. He spent the next week or so trying to maintain a state of heavy inebriation, drowning his heartbreak, punching the brick walls of his shelter for a lack of any better way to express his pain.  
  
What Jack didn't know is that there was an invader behind him, and that's who Gabriel was glaring - and shooting - at. The invader shot a split second before Gabe did, the impact throwing Gabriel's aim off. He died in despair, knowing that he'd shot his work husband and that Jack thought he hated him. Angela revived him, and he immediately led her to Jack's office where the 'I'm alive, but think of me as dead' message did absolutely nothing to reassure either of them. Initially, Gabriel joined Talon as a deep-undercover agent. "Reaper" had been established as a brutal mercenary years ago, and joining up gave Gabriel a shot at both whoever had ordered the destruction of Overwatch and also the UN forces that had made Jack's life hell in the final months. He maintained very careful contact with Angela, and carried an Overwatch emergency beacon on him in case things went wrong enough that he needed an extraction.  
  
While Gabriel _can_ go to smoke, he would literally rather bleed to death because putting himself back together is worlds harder than going to smoke and he's terrified of not being able to do it, being stuck forever as a cloud of smoke or worse, putting himself back together....wrong. He basically only goes to smoke if it's an involuntary reaction to a situation where survival is pretty much impossible. The first time he set off his beacon, he had intended for Angela to pick up on it and come get him...but Jack showed up instead. Seeing him act so cold, not responding to their Boy Scout joke, fucked Gabriel up _hard_. He thought Jack hated him, and rightfully so, although why Jack would bother saving his life if he hated Gabriel baffled him. The second time he set off the beacon, and Jack showed up to save his life, he started questioning if his assumptions were even correct. The third time, he deliberately set up a suspicious situation and wounded himself figuring the only reason Jack would walk into what looked like a trap was if he still cared. Jack walked in, and not only displayed distress at Gabriel being wounded but responded when Gabriel invoked one of their patterns. By the time Gabe scraped his mind back together from the horror of learning that Jack not only still cared but was emotionally wounded and walled away even more severely than after the deaths of his father and sister, Jack had already left.  
  
Gabriel never told Angela that he'd found Jack. At first, it was because he couldn't deal with Jack hating him. After realizing that Jack was incredibly broken, he declined to mention Jack to Angela because he knew that no one else had even the most remote chance of reaching Jack where he's walled himself away. His missions became a dual game of cat and mouse - first, toying with Talon and second, trying to get himself injured badly enough to justify setting off the beacon and luring Jack in so he could try (through the pain) to reach his work husband and keep him from leaving as soon as Gabe was patched up enough to survive. He didn't make any progress on that front until the crash in the Siberian tundra. He hadn't expected Jack to find him, but he did and Gabriel managed to convince him to not leave. That's when he resolved to quit Talon, to quit everything that wasn't Jack. He woke up in a hospital and was able to confirm that Jack was still wearing his dog tag in a silent declaration of lifelong devotion, and Gabriel threw away all his fear and pride to admit that he'd lied. He had a second chance, a chance to make things right with Jack, and he wasn't going to let _anything_ interfere. Not even his own issues.

 

* * *

Before and after the wedding

* * *

 

Although Jack now sees his primary purpose in life as 'dote on Gabriel', he's still horrible at saying no when someone asks him if he'll do a thing for them. At one point, he and Gabriel were in a coffee shop, Gabe at the counter and Jack holding a table, when a middle-aged woman approached Jack and started coming on to him. He tried to extricate himself gracefully, but she didn't let up, trying to press her number on him and get him to accept her invitation to some event. Gabriel walked over and handed jack his drink, then draped an arm around his husband's shoulders. The woman did not take the hint. Gabe started kissing Jack and calling him tooth-rottingly sweet nicknames. She still didn't take the hint until Gabriel urged Jack to drink his coffee because 'I know you're tired from all that sex we had last night' and they began making out. Then, finally, she huffed and walked off. Jack murmured 'is she gone?' into Gabe's mouth, then shyly said, 'my hero' when Gabe confirmed she had left and resumed their kiss.  
  
As awkward as the coffee shop woman was, that was nothing compared to the thin, dark-haired guy with ratty-looking mustache in a club who came on to Jack so hard and fast that he started retreating inside himself, not answering and trying to avoid eye contact, praying his husband would see and intervene. Gabriel did see and swoop in, but the ratty dude would not take no for an answer. Jack hid gratefully behind his husband, feeling dirty and _highly_ uncomfortable, while Gabriel mantled and did some rage posturing and possibly inflicted some physical damage. Needless to say, they cut their night out short and went home where Gabriel held his clingy husband and soothed him until he came out of himself again.  
  
Jack occasionally wore one of Gabe's shirts just for the moment of braingears screeching when his husband saw it. He liked the little demonstrations that even though he thinks he looks like an old man, Gabriel still finds him distractingly attractive. Gabriel, for his part, was greatly surprised when Jack confessed that he still had no experience past anything they'd done in bed together, that he'd never done anything with all the dates Gabriel set him up on. That no one had talked Jack Morrison into their bed. They'd tried, but Jack wasn't interested in anyone but Gabe. Jack still forgot and left the strawberry soda in the freezer too long, and Gabe still laughed until it hurt and licked it off, but now it led to sex as well as showering. Particularly when Jack splashed some onto his husband and then demonstrated what it felt like to have it licked off. While not exactly shy about doing sexual things, it did take Jack a bit to get used to this new aspect to their relationship and he has a mindset of 'the one who initiates clearly wants to do something specific, and it would be rude to interrupt'. He and Gabe had a talk about that, so if Gabriel wants some action but doesn't care what, he makes sure to verbally express that. Once Jack got more comfortable with initiating, he started doing things like assaulting Gabe while he does the dishes. At first, just some kissing and hugging from behind and then whoops, hands in the pants and Gabe clinging helplessly to the counter. At least once, he 'accidentally' dropped food on Gabe's lap and then insisted on cleaning it up and just...transitioned from cleaning up to going down.  
  
They decided to have a very private wedding - Gabriel because he didn't want anyone but Jack seeing him get emotional, and Jack because he didn't want anyone knowing he was alive. But once the deed was done, it was inevitable that someone would leak that news, and while Angela would probably be the first to hear it, she wouldn't hesitate to spread the news to anyone else she was in contact with. With that in mind, the plan was that they would pack suitcases and head straight to the airport as soon as they were married, choosing a destination and buying tickets at the last minute. By the time anyone tried to look for them, they'd be on the other side of the planet having a fancy-ass honeymoon, no expense spared.  
     'Nope.'  
     'Fuck you.'  
     'We don't want your congratulations.'  
     'See you next month.'  
     'So long.'  
     'Bye bye.'  
     'Don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you.'  
     'God, Jack, you're so corny.'  
     'I'm a country boy, Gabe, what do you want?'  
     'Cookies.'  
     'Chocolate chip?'  
     'You know it.'  
     '*kissing*'  
  
Once they were on their honeymoon, Gabriel delighted in making Jack melt and fluster in public with demonstrations of affection. It didn't take him long to figure out that Jack took equal delight in returning the favor by sexually dominating Gabriel once they were out of the public eye - even if that was just an empty hallway. With all their years of Jack technically being the one in charge, this give-and-take satisfied both Jack's desire to _not_ be in charge and Gabriel's desire to have Jack _actually_ be in charge. Granted with Gabe's issues, it took several years before Jack's 'emotional persistence hunter' thing finally wore down the last defenses and made him someone that Gabriel trusted completely enough that him being in charge was a huge turn-on rather than something that got Gabriel going on the defensive. Jack knows he's gotten his husband _good_ when Gabe calls him _mi rey_ instead of the usual _mi sol_. That completely open, vulnerable Gabe is something no one else has ever seen, and Jack expresses how much he treasures it by saving his sexually dominant side for when no one but his husband will see it.  
  
They started their honeymoon in Dorado, in penthouse of the fanciest, most expensive hotel in the city. After a week, when the reporters started trickling in and lying in wait, they took a series of planes and then a rented SUV to some woods in the middle of nowhere in the United States, where they ditched the rental at the foot of a trail and hiked up to a cabin that was off the grid but still comfortably furnished. Running water from a well, solar electricity, and kitchen appliances. The spent two weeks there, Jack pan-frying fish he'd caught and Gabriel skinny-dipping in a stream and giving his husband cold and wet kisses, cuddling at night in front of a wood fire. The reporters who were dismayed to find out they'd just missed Morrison and Reyes in Dorado did their best to track them down in the woods, even managing to find the locked SUV, but it was several miles of hiking uphill to the cabin and none of them were in good enough shape to manage that. When they came back down, they found one reporter had set up a makeshift camp by the SUV, lying in wait, but he was asleep. He woke up as they were driving off. They went to LA next, where Gabriel had a luxurious apartment complete with a very expensive grand piano downstairs. Gabriel put on a private concert for Jack, both of them wearing very nice suits, with the intent of making Jack's pants burst into flames. He got topped on the piano bench, with Jack being very glad he had the foresight to start carrying little bottles of lube on his person. Upstairs, the master bedroom featured a 12-foot circular rotating bed with a ceiling-mounted mirror. It took Jack a bit to adjust and stop being overwhelmed by the sheer hedonism of that apartment.  
  
When they got back from their honeymoon and word got out that they were both alive, inevitably they started getting "visitors" who wanted to turn Jack back into a figurehead for one cause or another. Angela was the first, but Gabriel told her in very blunt terms about the abuse Jack suffered growing up, and how he walls himself away. How badly walled away he was when he was a recruit, how much Gabriel had to work to keep him from retreating inside himself over the years, and how he hadn't had to do that _nearly_ as much once Jack decided to retire. Angela remembered countless incidents of Jack looking somber and grim and realized she had been seeing a maladaptive coping mechanism and withdrew her suggestion.  
  
Other visitors that came around to talk Jack out of retirement were faced with an unamused Gabriel Reyes informing them in an angry and threatening tone that the Strike-Commander was retired, repeated as needed with more anger, volume, and weaponry. _Especially_ if Jack was looking the slightest bit unhappy, because Gabriel knows the look of 'I don't want to do it, but it's My Duty, isn't it?' Jack gets. When things reached that point, Gabriel kissed him gently and murmured - in Spanish - that the visitor was stepping on Jack's foot. Jack is bad at figuring out where his boundaries are and realizing when he's starting to wall himself away, but he trusts his husband completely, so he'll go with whatever Gabe says on that front. When Gabe tells him his foot's being stepped on, he goes into the kitchen to not let himself brood and distract himself by making cookies while his husband handles things. When the cookies are done, he brings a dozen on a plate out to Gabriel, and something roughly like this takes place:  
     "*takes a cookie* Thanks, _mi sol_. General, do you see this fresh, warm cookie in my hand? My husband, the _former_ Strike-Commander, just made these for me. That means it's time for you to leave because I'm going to eat this plate of cookies while they're still warm, and then I'm going to fuck my husband's brains out in thanks. *stuffs cookie in mouth* ...whether you're still here or not."  
If the visitor is smart, they leave at that point. If they're not smart, Gabriel eats the plate of cookies and then pulls Jack into his lap for a heavy make-out session. There was one guy who stuck it out in attempts to call their bluff, but left when the pants came off and it became apparent that they weren't bluffing.  
  
Jack and Gabriel didn't make any kind of formal announcement that they got married; they just dropped the 'work' off of 'work husband'. With Jack, 'you mean your work husband?' just got a cold pause and a deliberate '...no.' Gabriel went straight to a sharp look and 'did I stutter?' With the exceptions of Ana and potentially Reinhardt and Torbjorn, no one had really seen them in any dynamic outside of Jack being the Strike-Commander, and thus, Gabriel deferring to him when push came to shove. They had no idea the dynamic really went the other way, so it confused them greatly when all of a sudden Jack is deferring to Gabriel and Gabe's gone 100% attack dog defending Jack.  
     "Jack, call off your work husband!"  
     "You know what makes me not want to do that? You casually inferring that my husband is a dog I keep on a leash. *pause* Besides, I retired. I have no rank anymore. *smirk* The only power I have over him is in the bedroom."  
And at that point the friend realizes that they're not joking, they actually got married and finally started doing what everyone thought they should have been doing for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and they lived happily ever after. Just Jack and Gabe and Jack's pizza.


End file.
